


The Wind Itself Was Their Song

by AliKat7



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 70,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliKat7/pseuds/AliKat7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joffrey allows Ned Stark to take the black but Sansa remains a hostage in King's Landing. The Starks decide they won't let a false king interfere with their family and ally the North with Renly Baratheon to change their future. Daenerys Targaryen is looking for an alliance in Westeros and gains one through the most unexpected source.</p><p>Pairings will be added as they happen so as not to spoil anything!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N The timeline of this story deviates heavily from canon. Ned's imprisonment began earlier, which resulted in differences in Jon and Theon's story arcs. Daenerys had already left Qarth by the time Ned was arrested.

 

 

 

A/N Thanks to my wonderful beta, Danielle. Thank you for all your help!

 

**Prologue**

 

“I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King, and I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of gods and men. I betrayed the faith of my king and the trust of my friend, Robert. I swore to defend and protect his children, yet before his blood was cold, I plotted to depose and murder his son and seize the throne for myself. Let the High Septon and Baelor the Beloved and the Seven bear witness to the truth of what I say: Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne, and by the grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

 

The High Septon knelt before Joffrey and his mother. “As we sin, so do we suffer,” he intoned, in a deep swelling voice much louder than Father’s. “This man has confessed his crimes in the sight of gods and men, here in this holy place.” Rainbows danced around his head as he lifted his hands in entreaty. “The gods are just, yet Blessed Baelor taught us that they are also merciful. What shall be done with this traitor, Your Grace?”

 

A thousand voices were screaming, but Arya never heard them. Prince Joffrey... no, _King_ Joffrey stepped out from behind the shields of his Kingsguard. “My mother bids me to let Lord Stark take the black, and Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father.” He looked straight at Sansa then, and smiled. “Lord Stark, is this your wish as well? Do you wish to take the black and serve the Night’s Watch until death with your brother and bastard son?”

 

The crowd continued to scream for her father’s death and throw rocks at him. Arya watched her father for a moment before he swallowed roughly and nodded. “I do, Your Grace.”

 

“For my lady and to maintain peace in the Seven Kingdoms, I will send you along with the man from the Night’s Watch. I denounce you, and attaint you, and strip you of all rank and titles, and do sentence you to take the black. Your eldest son will inherit your lands as long as he ceases the war in the Riverlands, swears fealty to the crown, and goes back to Winterfell, where he will serve as Lord of Winterfell at my behest,” Joffrey said.

 

Since her father’s imprisonment, Arya had heard little tidbits about Robb and the Northmen at war with the Lannisters. Would Robb be willing to end the war? Joffrey had just stripped her father of all of his titles and lands. He’d forced him to confess to being a traitor when Arya knew her father could never have been a traitor.

 

Arya felt someone pulled her off the statue and she tried to fight. A firm arm picked her up and dragged her into an alleyway. She tried to draw Needle but the man gripped her wrists too tightly.

 

“Do you remember me?” the man said quietly. He was dressed all in black, his clothes tattered and worn, plus he smelled funny.

 

At first, she tried to struggle again until he said, “Look at me boy. Do you remember me? My name is Yoren and I know your uncle Benjen.”

 

“I’m not a boy!” she retorted, studying the man. He did look familiar but she had seen so many people coming and going in King’s Landing the last few weeks, she wasn’t sure.

 

“You _are_ a boy if you want to come with me. You’re an orphan boy going to join the Night’s Watch,” the man said. Pulling out a knife he began to cut her hair short.

 

Arya struggled until she realized this man would be taking her father with him. “Are you going to take me to my father?”

 

“Orphans don’t have fathers. I’m going to take you north along with a band of misfits and criminals to join the Night’s Watch. Might be the former Hand of the King will be with us. But if a boy is smart and wants to get out of the city alive, he’ll remember orphans have no fathers and no homes.”

 

Feeling confused but hopeful, Arya nodded. At least she’d be with her father even if she had to pretend to be a boy.

 

~*~

 

A few days after his confession, a young maester, not Maester Pycelle, checked Ned’s leg, replaced his cast, and gave him some dreamwine to take with him for the pain. The gaolers then put him back in shackles for his journey north. Ned was just happy to breathe the free air and see daylight again. As soon as the council had confirmation that Robb had ceased his march to the Riverlands, Ned was prepared for his departure. Robb had given up the fight quite easily, desperate to save his father, Ned supposed. Ned felt humiliated that he had lost all honor with his lies in Baelor’s Sept and now his son must rescue him.

 

At least Sansa had been allowed to see him before he left. Tears filled her eyes as she ran and threw her arms around his neck. Sansa attempted to compose herself, always the lady, but Ned could only see the little girl he was leaving behind with these monsters. He didn’t trust the Lannisters to treat her well, but he had no choice in the matter.

 

“Forgive me, Father. This is all my fault. I never should have gone to the queen, but I hoped she would persuade you to stay. I never thought she’d do this.” Sansa sobbed and spoke so quietly, he could barely hear her. “I want to go _home,_ but they won’t let me now. I was such a fool to trust them.”

 

“Hush now, sweet girl. We don’t have much time and the wall have ears. There is nothing to forgive. This is not your fault. But you must listen to me. Do not speak ill of the Queen Regent or the King. _Ever_. The Red Keep is full of spies and traitors. All your words can and will be heard. Do what they tell you and you should stay safe,” Ned whispered in her ear. “Don’t trust _anyone_ , Sansa.”

 

“I won’t. Will they let you see Mother? Or my brothers? I don’t know where Arya is and no one will tell me,” Sansa said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

 

“Arya escaped the city, I think. I’m sure your mother and brother will find her. I doubt I will be able to see them, but if I do, I will tell them you miss them. When everyone returns to Winterfell, you’ll be able to send ravens, but remember they will be read, so watch what you say.”

 

“Eddard Stark.” A Lannister guard stood in the doorway. “Your escort to the Wall is here.” Ned hadn’t realized how used to being called “Lord” he’d become until everyone stopped saying it before his name.

 

“I’m sorry, Father, for how I acted about Lady and for being so angry with you. It wasn’t your fault. I love you so much,” Sansa said, clinging to his tunic. Ned's heart was in his throat. He was the father; it was his duty to protect his family and he had failed. Arya was lost to them, Sansa pleaded before court for his mercy, only to be held hostage, and Robb forced to go to war for him. And this could be the last time he saw Sansa.

 

 “Sweet girl, no matter what, I will love you. There is nothing you could do that would not be forgiven.” Ned ran his hand through her hair and kissed her forehead. “You’re as beautiful as your mother. You’ll make a wonderful queen and the people will love you.”

 

“I don’t _want_ to be queen now or marry Joffrey. I just want to go home,” she sobbed.

 

“You are a Stark of Winterfell, Sansa, and winter is coming. You must be strong and act with honor,” he said firmly. “Hold true to who are you, whether you are queen or sister to the Lord of Winterfell.”

 

“Sister?”

 

“Robb is now Lord of Winterfell, not me, sweet one,” he reminded her. She nodded quickly, straightening her back and standing tall, despite the tears in her eyes.

 

“I will make you and Mother proud, I promise,” she answered. He kissed her goodbye as the guards led him away. Sansa watched him go with wide blue eyes, looking much older than her years. She was truly her mother’s daughter. He prayed to the Old Gods to watch over her in this nest of snakes.

 

As he was walking out, he saw Lord Varys, dressed once again like a gaoler. The eunuch moved to walk beside him. “Lord Stark, you did well. Your daughter should be safer now.”

 

“I’m not a lord anymore. I’ve lost all honor and have been labeled a traitor,” Ned said quietly.

 

“Would you have preferred an honorable _death_? That would surely leave all of your children at risk in this war. As it is, the Baratheons are still going to battle for the throne. Your son was wise to bend the knee. For now.”

 

Ned walked a few paces then looked at Varys. “For now? What do you mean?”

 

The eunuch said nothing, offering him a small smile and stepping away as a Lannister soldier came to take Eddard’s arm, forcing him to move faster. Ned saw that Yoren, the black brother he’d met previously, awaited for him, along with all of the criminals he’d scavenged from the cells, a few boys barely old enough to take the black, and, much to his surprise, Robert’s bastard son, Gendry. Gendry watched him curiously as they loaded Ned into caged wagon, his leg too injured for him to ride. As they slammed the door to his new prison, the boy that had been talking to Gendry turned around and Ned’s heart nearly stopped when he saw his younger daughter’s eyes staring back at him.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ned's confession and the High Septon's words were taken from Game of Thrones.


	2. Chapter 1

 

 

A/N Thanks to my wonderful beta, Danielle. Thank you for all your help!

 

**Chapter One**

“The raven we’ve been waiting for has come,” Loras Tyrell said as he marched into the tent where Robb and his bannermen were meeting. Catelyn sat to one side of Robb, Jon Snow to the other. “Your father has left the capital with the Night’s Watch. It is almost time, Lord Stark.”

 

Robb glanced over at his mother and saw her release the breath she’d been holding. “And my sisters?” he asked, hopeful.

 

“The Queen keeps Sansa close.”

 

“What of Arya, our younger sister?” Jon asked. His brows furrowed and his gray eyes troubled, his concern was clear.

 

“Our spies don’t know where the she is, I’m afraid. Word is that she escaped the city when the Lannisters murdered everyone in your father’s household,” Ser Loras replied. “Renly’s main host is nearly in place close to Riverrun. The smaller host, bearing the Tully and Baratheon banners, is half a day away from Tywin. Once they attack and lead Lord Tywin’s host away, you’ll have to be ready to move. They’re not planning for a full assault, just trying to draw him out.”

 

“The Riverlords that we trusted are waiting close to The Whispering Wood, my lord,” Ser Brynden said to Robb. “Marq Piper continues to harass the supplies and scouts, keeping them busy. They won’t see us coming from this direction.”

 

“Ser Loras, we’ve been ready for days. We’ve tried to make it look like we’re breaking camp to return to Winterfell. Hopefully that ruse will continue to work until my husband is further away and the queen will not realize Robb doesn’t intend to go north,” Lady Stark said. Turning to Robb, she said, “I don’t like this. If this battle is lost…”

 

“We outnumber them and have the element of surprise. Jon has reported that he and his scouts saw the Kingslayer in that camp. If we have him as our hostage, the queen wouldn’t dare risk hurting Sansa until we get her out of King’s Landing,” Robb explained again.

 

“Lady Stark, the plan is sound,” Ser Loras said, as he sat down beside Jon.

 

Catelyn glared at the young knight. “Ser Loras, how many young daughters do you have who are in danger in King’s Landing? And do you have a husband I don’t know about barely a day’s ride outside the capital, easily within reach of the Lannisters to recapture and kill in retaliation of your son rising up against them after declaring he wouldn’t?” The tent was quiet for a few moments. “I appreciate that King Renly wants and needs Robb’s help and is willing to help us in the Riverlands. But we have more at risk than he does. My husband and two daughters, my brother and father, and my son…virtually my entire family is in danger so forgive me if I seek further assurances than the word of a boy who’s never seen battle.”

 

“Cat, they’re my family too. And the plan is sound,” Ser Brynden reassured her. “We’ve been through it multiple times.”

 

Catelyn nodded and looked at him gratefully. “I’ll have to put my trust in you, Uncle.”

 

Loras glared at her for a moment before rising and leaving the tent. Robb gave his mother an exasperated look, as he muttered, “Mother...”

 

“I’ll speak with him,” Jon said, rising as well and following Loras out of the tent.

 

If anyone understood being on the receiving end of Lady Stark’s glares, it was Jon. He’d only reunited with his brother two days past and from the start, Lady Stark made it clear that she didn’t want him there. But Robb _did,_ and that was all that mattered. Robb had sent the raven to Lord Commander Mormont asking Jon to return, if he hadn’t taken his vows yet. It reached Jon a few days before it would have been too late.

 

The decision had been easy enough. His brother needed him, his sisters and father were in danger, and the Wall wasn’t going anywhere if he changed his mind later. He felt guilty about leaving Sam, and had considered taking him with him or to Winterfell, since he hadn’t taken his vows yet either. But Sam had reminded Jon of Randall Tarly’s final words to his son. There was no way Sam could leave the Wall or he’d risk the wrath of his father. So Pyp and Grenn had promised they’d look after Sam. Though he’d been sad to lose him, Lord Mormont wished Jon well and promised to send word when they had news of Benjen Stark.

 

Jon soon caught up to Loras. The young knight glanced at him and said, “Is she always that insufferable?”

 

“No,” Jon said and then smirked. “Sometimes she’s _really_ impossible.”

 

Loras laughed aloud. “Your brother seems weary of her as well.”

 

“Robb loves his mother and they have a close bond, but she tends to forget that her children aren’t babies anymore. I suppose it could be worse. She could not care about them at all.” He sighed and shook his head. “My father’s lady wife has many faults, but she loves my father and my brothers and sisters very much. That’s why she’s being so difficult. She wants assurances that everything will be fine, that her husband and children will be safe and sound. She’s concerned about my younger brothers as well.”

 

“It’s strange that you’re so close to your family, except her, of course. Well, it’s strange that a bastard is brought home to live with his lord father’s family at all.” Glancing at Jon in horror, Loras exclaimed, “I meant nothing against you, Snow, or even bastards in general. I just never hear much about bastards being brought home to live with high lords such as your father. My father would never have dared. My grandmother would have had him gelded most likely.” Loras laughed again, shaking his head. “It’s good that you’re all so close. I can’t imagine not having my brothers and sister. I often pity Renly for the relationships between him and his brothers.”

 

Jon liked Loras quite a bit. He was brash and arrogant, true, and he could be conceited and self-important, but he and Robb had gotten on immediately after Renly had sent Loras with his plans for an alliance. Robb’s likability had won Ser Loras over and the two had been drawn to each other’s charisma and similar sense of humor. When Jon had arrived, Loras had welcomed him like a true brother to Robb, never once treating him differently, so Jon knew he meant no harm by his comment.

 

“What do you think Stannis will do when he finds out the North and Riverlands are allied with Renly?” Jon asked, glancing at him sideways. They had reached Loras’s tent and he waved Jon inside. His squire poured them both some wine and Loras sat down, propping his feet onto the table.

 

“Who could say with Stannis? He’s a prickly son of a bitch,” Loras snorted. He grabbed an apple off the table and bit into it. In between chewing, he explained. “As personable and outgoing as Robert Baratheon was, Stannis is the extreme opposite. They’re like Dorne and the Wall. I wouldn’t be surprised if Stannis wasn’t carved from the Wall.”

 

Jon chuckled and took a sip of his wine. Loras’ family’s wealth was obvious in the opulent tent to the point where a few of the Northmen had insisted the Tyrells were richer than the Lannisters. Loras stood out amongst the Northmen like the midday sun amongst the clouds. His clothing was rich, his armor and sword were stunning, even his horse was worth more than some of the Northmen’s homes. He loved excellent food and wine, but he offered it freely to those he considered friends.

 

“I met your sister once, at the Hand’s tournament. Well, I gave her a flower,” Loras said with a smile. “I give a flower to a woman or girl in the stands every time I joust. Renly _insisted_ that I give one to Sansa that day. He said she was a sweet girl who loved tales of gallant knights.”

 

“That’s Sansa. I’m sure she was captivated. I can almost imagine her delight,” Jon said with a smile. “The thought of her alone with Joffrey or the queen…” He closed his eyes at the thought.

 

“Pretty girl, much too good for that little shit Joffrey. I can’t imagine my sister in the hands of the Lannisters either. But if Robb’s plan works, you’ll have her back soon enough, long before she can be forced to marry the prick,” Loras reassured him.

 

Jon wasn’t sure about all of the plots at work around him. Robb and his bannermen had already planned an attack in the Whispering Wood before Loras had arrived with Renly’s plans to rescue their father and sisters, using the network of spies still loyal to the youngest Baratheon to get men in place to smuggle the girls from the capital by ship.  Robb had worked with Loras and Ser Brynden to plan the diversion of Tywin’s army while they attacked Jaime Lannister. There were so many things set into motion, Jon couldn’t help but worry that one of these schemes would end in death for one of his family members. Lady Stark was right that the Starks stood to lose the most. Renly had one hundred thousand men at his command, but little of his family was at risk. But then his brother Robert had been murdered by the Lannisters already, and Stannis wanted to win the throne, no matter what it took to subdue his younger brother.

 

In some ways, Robb and Jon were agreed that Stannis was the _rightful_ heir to the throne, but Renly had the men. Renly also had the sense enough to know that in order to win Robb’s loyalty, he had to provide a way to save their father and sisters. Stannis was willing to let Ned Stark be labeled a traitor and be sent to the Wall, or be killed. He didn’t care about him at all, nor did he spare their sisters a second thought. Renly was their only option.

 

“Renly, I mean His Grace, will be a noble king, a good king. His people in the Stormlands love him and now that he’s married to my sister, the people of the Reach will love him as well,” Loras said, eyes gleaming.

 

“It appears that although he wasn’t close with his brothers in blood, he shared that with you,” Jon observed and Loras blushed, looking down. Jon watched him curiously and noted that Loras wouldn’t meet his eyes. His expression went from what Jon had thought to be love for his brother-at-arms to embarrassment.

 

 _Oh!_ Jon thought to himself, looking away. He didn’t know much about love or romance but he realized that the expression Loras had just worn was very similar to the look his father sometimes had when he spoke of his lady wife. Jon wasn’t so naïve to think that a man could only think of a woman in that way, but he’d never expected it from a knight and a king, especially considering Renly was married to Loras’ sister. But perhaps the feeling was one-sided, or he’d misread Loras’ hero-worship as affection.

 

They grew more uncomfortable as the silence stretched. Finally, Jon cleared his throat and asked, “Will your older brothers be riding with the king as well?”

 

“Garlan will be, along with my father, but Willas will remain in Highgarden to rule in his stead. Willas has a bad leg due to a horse falling on him at his first tourney. But he’s a good leader. My father trusts him with Highgarden,” Loras explained.

 

“We have a few things in common. My brother Bran is crippled as well, thanks to the Lannisters. He was left in charge at Winterfell, though he is only a boy. He’s very smart with a good heart, and will be as good a leader as my lord father one day,” Jon said fondly. He missed Bran and Rickon. He’d stopped at Winterfell on the way south, but had only remained for one night, much too rushed to answer Robb’s call for aid. At least he’d see Bran awake and no longer near death.

 

Loras smiled at him and raised his glass. “Here’s to things in common, besides our mutual loathing of the Lannisters.”

 

~*~

 

Robb found Jon as he was leaving Loras’ tent. The brothers walked back to Robb’s tent to speak privately. Robb had had only a short time alone with him since he’d arrived, but Jon understood the pressure he was under.

 

“I have to send Mother home as soon as we get Father back. I had thought to wait until Dacey Mormont and Daryn Hornwood returned with Sansa, but we don’t know how long that will take. I cannot afford to have her offend Ser Loras. Renly must trust Loras immensely to have him come to me with his plan, and Mother seems determined to antagonize him,” Robb said, taking off his leathers. It was a warm day, especially for the Northmen.

 

“Renly and Loras are very close,” Jon agreed.  “Perhaps…nevermind.”

 

“What?” Robb looked at him strangely. When Jon remained silent, he threw a glove at him. “Out with it. I wanted you here because I knew I could trust you, Jon. We’ve always shared everything. Why would you keep something from me now?”

 

Jon chuckled nervously. “I might be wrong. I’m not keeping anything from you, but I don’t want to give you false information. It’s just an impression I got from my conversation with Ser Loras.”

 

“What impression? That they’re not close?”

 

“No, quite the opposite. They’re extremely close.”

 

“Good. They’re like us. Renly will need a brother he can trust since he might have to fight his own brother,” Robb replied shortly until Jon laughed loudly, turning away from him. “ _What?_ ”

 

“Not like us. At least, I’m fairly sure. I think they’re close in a _different_ way: a way that you and I will never be close.”

 

Robb stared at him for a few moments, bewildered until suddenly, his eyes widened. When Jon nodded, Robb said, “Well, that’s unexpected.”

 

The two of them stared at each other until they burst into laughter. When they finally regained their composure, Robb sat down at the table and said, “It feels good to laugh again. I really need to send Mother home sooner rather than later. I’m certain she won’t leave without seeing Father but I will keep her from Loras as much as possible and Renly when he arrives. I don’t know much about Mace Tyrell, but I’ve heard much about his mother, the “Queen of Thorns”. Perhaps he’ll be more understanding about my mother than Renly.”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

They sat in silence for a few moments before Robb glanced at him uncomfortably. “After Father returns, I’m sending you to the Free Cities.”

 

Jon looked at him, stunned. He’d never expected that to come out of his brother’s mouth. Robb shifted in his seat and leaned forward, speaking quietly. “Renly is our best option here and now. But I fear we will need another powerful ally in the future.”

 

“And which ally is that? We don’t know anyone in the Free Cities.”

 

“No, we don’t. But there is a powerful person with a stronger claim to the throne than either Baratheon, one that could defeat the Lannisters, as Westeros was once conquered:  with dragons,” Robb said.

 

“Surely you jape. There are no dragons left.”

 

“There are three, with a Targaryen queen at their helm. Daenerys Targaryen has fled Qarth for Slaver’s Bay, according to my sources. She needs allies in Westeros. We need a guarantee that the Lannisters will not be allowed to remain in power. As long as they are, the North will bleed once we recover Father, a fugitive and confessed traitor, and remove Sansa from underneath the queen’s nose.” Robb watched him digest what he’d said.

 

Jon shook his head quickly. “Robb, this is too risky. If Renly finds out that you intend to support another’s claim before he even gains the Iron Throne, he’ll consider that treason. We cannot afford to make enemies of both the Lannisters and Baratheons. Why would the Targaryens even consider an alliance with the Starks? Our father helped crumple their reign and her father murdered our uncle and grandfather.”

 

“You’ll journey there and wait for word from me. Perhaps I won’t need Daenerys but whether we ally ourselves with her or not, eventually she _will_ return to Westeros to reclaim the Iron Throne. She has dragons and the Dothraki. She’s seeking to buy Unsullied as we speak. That’s a fatal combination for all who stand in her way. We’ll either be her allies or her enemies. By the time you reach her, I’ll know more about this alliance with Renly. Either way, we need to keep a watchful eye on Daenerys Targaryen. The time may come when I need you to bring an offer of marriage to her from me. I trust no one more than you.”

 

Jon chewed his lip for a few moments. Robb had a valid point about keeping an eye on Daenerys. If she truly had three dragons, then the Targaryens could certainly conquer Westeros again, especially since most of the Great Houses were preparing to battle amongst themselves. But it was dishonorable to ally with Renly with plans to betray his claim to support another.

 

Robb had already broken his word to the crown and now was plotting with Renly, even though they both considered Stannis the rightful heir. There were plans in the works to smuggle their sister out of King’s Landing and to take his father from the Night’s Watch’s party along the road. Before Loras had arrived, Robb had even allowed Theon to return to the Iron Island to get him the ships he needed for a potential attack on King’s Landing. Jon didn’t like all the scheming. It went against everything they’d been taught.

 

“Let us see what happens with the upcoming battle and your plans to rescue Father. He can advise us once he’s with us. But I’m not certain there is honor in this new plan,” Jon said, studying his brother.

 

“When Lyanna was kidnapped, Uncle Brandon rode to her rescue and threatened the Crown Prince. When our uncle and grandfather were murdered, our father allied with Robert Baratheon, the Tullys, and the Arryns to overthrow the Mad King. Was that honorable?” Robb paused for a moment, and then continued. “The Lannisters killed Robert Baratheon, took our sisters, stripped Father of his lands and titles and condemned him to the Night’s Watch, and burned much of the Riverlands to the ground. How can it not be honorable to do everything in our power to protect our family and allies?”

 

“I’m not saying that rebelling against the Lannisters is wrong. But to propose an alliance with a Targaryen, much less an alliance through marriage, is madness. Have you thought of the Martells?  They loath the Lannisters and the prince has a daughter of age to marry,” Jon suggested.

 

Robb scoffed. “I’m not looking for a wife. I’m looking for a powerful alliance that will help protect the North once all our plans fall into place. What good would an alliance with Dorne do? I highly doubt the Princess of Dorne is fond of snow drifts as tall as she is. Theon suggested his sister Asha as well, but based on what he’s said about women in the Iron Islands, I couldn’t even imagine such a match.”

 

Jon was quiet a moment before he blurted, “Why would you ever trust Theon to bring Balon Greyjoy to our cause? Balon fought against Father and Theon has never shown any loyalty to anyone but himself. Even though Father held Theon as his ward, the Ironborn continued to raid along our shores. Neither Greyjoy, father nor son, has a shred of honor.”

 

Robb glared at him, retorting, “Not you too. I had more than enough on that subject from Mother.”

 

“Please do not compare me to your mother. She doesn’t know Theon like I do, like we both do. He has no morality, takes pride in qualities and actions we find shameful.”

 

“I know you've never liked Theon, but he's been a loyal friend to me. He is Balon's heir, so his father recover a son in exchange for his help. It’s not as if Balon doesn’t enjoy fighting and raiding anyway. We’re just giving him a _cause_ to fight.” Robb looked at him for a long moment before saying, “Jon, I need your support. Father’s bannermen think of me as a green boy. Mother thinks of me as a child. At least, Renly and Loras are near our age and have little experience, but I need someone to trust that my deicisons are sound. Our father taught us well.”

 

Jon nodded. “You know you have my support, even if I don’t always agree with you. I would never question you in front of your bannermen. But if you ask my opinion, I will give it. You cannot trust me for my honesty and ask me to lie to you.”

 

Robb gave him a look of relief. They continued to talk for awhile before going for a long walk to allow Ghost and Grey Wind to run free. The direwolves remained close by when Jon and Robb were in tents and hunted at night. But sometimes they needed to run free.

 

“What will we do about Arya?” Jon said at last. She had been on his mind often since he returned to Robb’s side. Watching the wolves, he was reminded that she was without Nymeria as protection, and that Sansa no longer had Lady. Summer, Ghost, and Grey Wind had already protected their masters once and from what Loras had repeated of the story Renly told him, Nymeria had bitten Joffrey in protection of her.

 

Robb frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know. I think she’d survive longer on her own than Sansa would. But we need to find her. I don’t know how to find her without letting our enemies know that she’s on her own somewhere, however. She was often mistaken for a stable boy or a servant at Winterfell. It may be best for her to be taken for small folk rather than appear as a lady for them to ransom. Or worse.”

 

“Tell that to the small folk that had their whole villages burned in the Riverlands,” Jon replied grimly. “I suppose you’re right, though. At least she was smart enough to escape the city before the queen could catch her. Sansa trusts too easily. Not Arya though.”

 

~*~

 

Ned watched Arya, or ‘Arry’ as she was known, attempt to speak with him a few times the first day, but each time Yoren would give her a warning look. Arya would bite her lip and keep walking. Gendry seemed to be her traveling companion and Ned couldn’t help but hope he was more like Stannis than Robert when it came to women. Arya was far too young and Gendry thought she was a boy, though.

 

After a meager supper, Ned watched her creep up to his wagon while she was meant to be gathering firewood. There was a second wagon of prisoners from the cells, but Yoren kept the two groups separate, thankfully, considering what he’d heard the men say of their crimes. He shifted to the very far side of the wagon and Arya ran the final feet to his side.

 

“Be careful and speak softly,” he warned as he reached his hand out to touch her hair. “I was worried you were lost.”

 

“I was worried you’d be killed,” she admitted, her eyes wide. “Syrio protected me from Ser Meryn and the Lannister soldiers so I could escape. I had to leave him fighting about eight soldiers. I went back to the Tower of the Hand and everyone was already dead. I found Needle and then I had to run.”

 

Ned felt a tightness in his chest, thinking of the horrors his daughters had seen already. “Sweet girl, you were smart to run. Were you harmed?”

 

“No, just mostly scared,” she said and then she looked down at her feet. “There was a boy, Father, and I…”

 

When she looked at him with tear-filled eyes, Ned’s heart started pounding hard. Has his own child, not even flowered, been raped? The gods were cruel. He’d never forgive himself for confronting Cersei. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opening them, he said, “Forgive me. You should never have been at risk. I’m just glad you’re safe now.”

 

“No, Father, listen…I killed the boy,” she whispered, tears falling on her face. “I didn’t mean to. He said I had to go with him, to the queen. When he grabbed my arm and spun me around, I stabbed him in his belly.”

 

Torn between relief and horror, Ned simply asked, “He didn’t hurt _you_ then?”

 

“No, but I killed him. I’m sorry Father, I didn’t _mean_ to hurt him and I know that Needle isn’t a toy. It was so different than with Syrio during my lessons. He didn’t even speak. His eyes widened as his clutched his stomach, and then he fell down,” Arya stammered at him.

 

“Hush now, Arya. There is nothing to forgive. You were protecting yourself. That’s what a sword is for and now you have more respect for the weapon. And if the Lannisters had caught you, you’d still be there.” Ned grabbed both of her hands, squeezing tightly. “Thank the gods Yoren found you.”

 

“Please don’t tell Mother,” she pleaded. “Will Sansa be coming home, too?”

 

“No, not yet, at least. I’m afraid I don’t know much more than you do, and what little I _do_ know might all be lies as I heard most of it from Lord Varys.”

 

“Arry!” Yoren called out and Arya jumped as the man walked to them. “I sent you to gather wood, not speak to prisoners. If you don’t follow orders, you could put yourself in a dangerous situation. Come now.” To Ned he said, “She can’t talk to you much or people will wonder who she is, my lord. I’ll watch over her.” He nodded at him then took Arya by the arm to lead her away.

 

Ned sighed and rested his head against the bars of his cage. His leg ached but not as much as it had in the black cells. Yoren had removed his shackles and let him out to stretch his leg a few times, though the prisoners in the other wagon complained. The black brother told them that as Ned hadn’t committed a violent crime, he didn’t need to be shackled. One of them, who Ned thought was named “Biter”, said he was getting special treatment because he was high born but though he was a criminal like the rest of them. The humiliation burned in Ned’s chest and he couldn’t respond, so he had turned his back on them and tried to block out their words.

 

He needed to learn to deal with the shame of being a confessed traitor. He’d been considered a traitor before, when he and Robert had rebelled against the Iron Throne, but that had been considered honorable and they were heroes after the war, though he’d never felt like one. He hadn’t brought his sister, father, or brother back home alive. His best friend, his foster brother, had sat over the bodies of slain children and called them ‘dragon spawn’.

 

Ned had returned to the North, to his new wife and son, with a bastard son, a wet nurse, and his sister’s bones. Robert considered them heroes for their rebellion, the stuff of songs, but Ned saw things differently. His youth died with his father, Lyanna, and Brandon, and his honor had died when Catelyn looked upon Jon the first time.

 

If only she knew the truth. If only he could tell her.

 

 


	3. Chapter 2

 

 

 

A/N Thanks to my fabulous beta, Danielle. Thank you for all your help!

 

 

**Chapter 2**

 

Dacey Mormont could see Sansa across the throne room. Renly Baratheon’s connection in King’s Landing, a man named Hammond, had originally arranged Daryn Hornwood to pose as a Gold Cloak within the castle, and for Dacey to pose as a septa. A septa could pass unseen and ‘pray’ in the sept, therefore, giving her an opportunity to speak with Sansa. Dacey knew nothing about the Faith of the Seven, however, and after seeing the statues, she admitted she wasn’t sure which was the Mother or the Crone. That had delayed them a day while Hammond made alternate arrangements for her to pose as a servant in the same part of the keep where Sansa was. She couldn’t pose as Sansa’s handmaiden because her handmaidens were all in the employ of the Lannisters.

 

Dacey had no problem posing as a servant except the gowns prevented her from carrying her usual weapons. She did, however, have knives concealed on her, but she would have preferred her sword and axe.

 

Sansa was watching Joffrey holding court from the balcony. He’d just passed judgment on a tavern singer who had written a song mocking the Queen Regent and his late father by having his tongue removed. He cut off a hand of a thief in the throne room. Each time, Sansa would look more horrified and turn away as the sentence was carried out.

 

Dacey couldn’t help but think how easily her axe would separate his head from his shoulders, this boy king. His form of “justice” was bloodthirsty and he did so without remorse. In fact, he seemed to revel in it. The stories of the Mad King came to mind. But Aerys hadn’t started out as vicious and cruel, only descending into madness after being held prisoner. If this was Joffrey in the early stages of his reign, pressured by little other than the rumors of the Baratheon uprising, Dacey couldn’t imagine what this boy would become. He could become worse than Aerys.

 

Shaking the thoughts of murdering the beast away, Dacey studied Sansa, noticing a bruise on her face. Daryn was close by, so she signaled him to her.  They pretended to be a couple sneaking off for a tryst in the Godswood, the place with fewest visitors by far.

 

“He struck her,” Dacey seethed. “We cannot wait too long to take her.”

  
“We’ve only been here two days. And besides, we have to make sure that Lord Robb has the Kingslayer before we can attempt it. If we fail, they will punish Lady Sansa for it. We cannot risk them killing her, which they will do if we don’t have Jaime Lannister in custody. Follow the plan, Dacey,” Daryn warned her.

 

Dacey paced back and forth, fiddling with her gown. “Any word from Hammond about Lord Stark or Lady Arya?”

 

“Nothing about Lady Arya. Nothing about Lord Stark since he left the capital. Until the Kingslayer is…”

 

“I know, I know,” Dacey said irritated. “How is it that one man, especially a man like him, is so critical to all of our plans? If Lord Robb fails to capture him, I’m taking Lady Sansa from the city as soon as we hear, otherwise they will kill her. You saw what that bastard did to the people in court today. He has not been taught what justice is. If we knew who was still loyal to Renly, we could take the king instead of his uncle. Or should I say his father?”

 

“You should say his _uncle_ or nothing at all. Learn to control your temper and words. We might have to be here awhile and, if you aren’t careful, you would slip and betray our true intentions. Until we are safely away, we must appear as loyal subjects of the good King Joffrey.” Daryn seemed to have more than his fair share of patience. She supposed he must to be betrothed to a Karstark.

 

Dacey remained silent, glancing around. Godswoods were usually peaceful places, but even it felt wrong in King’s Landing. It was too warm and the city smelled of perfume and shit. She knew that they were near the sea, but she couldn’t smell a hint of the sweet ocean breeze like on Bear Island. The city was rank death: dead fish, dead people, and dead souls.

 

“I hate it here,” she muttered. “And I hate seeing a girl not much older than my younger sisters in Lady Sansa’s situation. If her brothers or father were to see the bruises on her face…let’s just say, I’m more controlled than any of them would be.”

 

“I feel the same. She’s barely two years younger than Alys. But Lord Robb and Lady Stark have put their trust in us to get Sansa out of the capital _alive_. And if that means we have to see a few bruises, then we will do so and do it silently. At least she was at court today, so we know she lives,” Daryn said.

 

“Yes, but how long can she endure this?”

 

x-x-x

 

Jon watched Robb out of the corner of his eye. The wood was quiet around them, eerily so, and they couldn’t see anything from where they were, but they could hear the battle between Ser Brynden’s small force and the Kingslayer’s men nearby. The trap was set.

 

They heard the horses of the Lannister army galloping through the woods and the horns sounded. Robb smiled at him before kicking his horse into motion. Jon felt the rush of adrenaline pulsing in his system as Robb cried “Winterfell!” Arrows filled the sky. Grey Wind howled and raced after Robb’s horse as they rode downhill to meet the enemy. Jon and Ghost followed immediately after, as well as the men who volunteered to keep Robb safe.  All of them were brave and capable men, but no one would mourn the loss of his brother more than him, so he remained at Robb’s side.

 

In the cover of darkness, Jon couldn’t see much that was going on around them except what the moonlight showed. Two men charged towards Jon but the first horse reared when Ghost appeared. Jon knocked the other to the ground with a blow to his chest. Jon jumped down after him as he struggled to stand. In the back of his mind, Ser Rodrik’s voice echoed. _Keep moving. It’s harder to hit a moving target. Stay low. Quick and light. Use the weight of your body to knock them off center._ This opponent was attempting to kill him though, unlike his skirmishes with Robb, Theon and Jory. The men in the Night’s Watch had been more motivated to hurt him, but less skilled than those at Winterfell. This was the first time it was his life or death. Another man was behind him and Jon ducked from a wide swing of his long sword. He saw a flash of white and the man screamed, Ghost’s teeth sinking into his leg, allowing Jon to make an end to it. In between blows, he glanced at his brother a few times and saw he was holding his own.

 

They had the Kingslayer’s army outnumbered fifty to one. Most of the knights surrendered quickly enough, having been bloodied by the Blackfish already. Jon killed two before the one Ghost kept off him pleaded for mercy. Jon called off the wolf before kicking the man’s skull hard enough to knock him out. He didn’t have time to secure him right now. When he turned around, Jon didn’t even see other Lannister men to fight. Robb had one that had surrendered to him and a few dead at his feet; either by his blade or Grey Wind’s teeth, Jon wasn’t sure. But his brother was safe.

 

Loras Tyrell had been cornered by a few Lannister men but the Greatjon had vaulted off his horse and crashed into them, knocking them down as Loras finished the other two with impressive blade work. Jon made a mental note to train with Loras at some point.

 

It was over so quickly, and too easily. Jon sensed something was off and took in his surroundings once more.

 

Jon heard a scream of rage and familiar voices crying out “Lannister!” The moonlight reflected off the gold in his armor as Jaime cut down Torrhen and Eddard Karstark savagely, one after the other, and he raced toward Robb. Jon broke into a sprint as well and, just as Jaime raised his sword to his brother, Jon tackled him to the ground. They both scrambled to their feet.  Jon saw a flash of a smile and heard a muttered, _“Bastard.”_

 

 _“Kingslayer,”_ Jon replied before swinging his sword at him. For every parry he gave, Jaime struck his shield or Jon three times.

 

Robb was trying to move around the two of them to approach Jaime from behind as Jon tried to deflect the blows the Kingslayer rained down on him. His heart was in his throat when he realized Jaime had more than earned his reputation as one of the most gifted swordsmen in the realm. He nicked Jon with his sword half a dozen times and his blade was a blur. Before either brother could disarm him, Grey Wind lunged and knocked Jaime off his feet. Ghost raced forward, his teeth almost clamping down on Jaime’s neck until Jon screamed, “Ghost, to me!” and rushed to pull the wolf back.

 

By the time Robb pressed his sword to the Kingslayer’s throat, they were surrounded by twenty other Northmen and Loras Tyrell. Jaime glared at both of them as Jon retrieved Jaime’s sword from a few feet away.

 

“I see the wolves haven’t bent the knee after all,” Jaime muttered. He narrowed his eyes at Jon and then asked Robb, “Isn’t the Lord of Winterfell supposed to execute deserters from the Night’s Watch? Or does that not apply to Stark men or their bastards. I see that you two don’t take your oaths or your honor as seriously as your father.”

 

“Honor and oaths are things you know little about. I swore fealty to a king, as I said I would.” Robb smiled. “His Grace, King _Renly Baratheon_. And my brother isn’t a deserter. I sent for him _before_ he took his oaths when your sister and bastard son threw my father in a black cell.”

 

“The kingsguard take oaths as well. I have no bastards. Renly is barely a man, much less a king,” Jaime spat out. Jon reached up to stop Loras’ approach. “Ah…the Knight of the Flowers is here as well? This _is_ my lucky night.”

 

“You took your oaths to father no children and to protect the mad king,” Ser Loras shot back. “But you kept neither.”

 

“Gather up the rest of the prisoners,” the Greatjon ordered as he came forward with rope to bind Jaime’s hands. “I’ll handle this one. Should I gag him as well?”

 

“No, but feel free to knock him unconscious if he puts up a fight,” Robb said, wiping away the blood on his face.

 

When the Greatjon led him away, Robb turned to where the two Karstark brothers lay and, crouched down to check for any sign of life. There was none. “How many did we lose?” he asked Ser Brynden.

 

“I only lost four men but a few were injured. Marq Piper lost two. I don’t know the numbers from here, but Lady Mormont suspects we lost less than one for every ten they lost. Which one of you caught the Kingslayer?”

 

“It was a joint effort,” Jon answered, stroking Ghost’s fur. “And apparently, direwolves like the taste of lions. Robb, do you want me to find Lord Karstark?”

 

“They died defending me,” Robb said, solemnly. “It should come from me.” He stood and walked away, followed by Robin Flint and one of the many Freys. Jon had given up trying to remember their names.

 

He heard a whimper and looked over to find Ghost standing by Robb’s horse. At some point, the horse had caught a lance in the side. Jon pulled out his dagger and put it out of its misery. Robb had been fond of the horse, but it was near death. At least his brother was alive and they had caught Jaime Lannister. Hopefully, their father would soon be restored to them.

 

But Sansa was still in danger and Arya was lost. It seemed wrong that the two that needed the most protection were going to be rescued last but there was nothing more they could do.

 

Standing up, he surveyed the site of his first battle. There were still some injured moaning in pain or calling for help. He began walking through them to see if he could help any of the fallen Northmen. Jon had no skills in healing but he could at least help assess the severity of their injuries. He helped load some into wagons to return to camp and spoke with those that were dying, lending what comfort he could.

 

Robb and other northern lords were doing the same while they waited for healers to make their way through the men. Lord Umber gave his men direct orders not to die, while Lady Mormont seemed to be telling them humorous stories of their past interactions. Jon didn’t see Lord Karstark, although he wasn’t surprised. Robb had probably sent him back to camp with the bodies of his sons. Ser Marq Piper appeared to be gathering messages for the loved ones of the dying. Jon wondered if he’d remember them all or if just the thought was a comfort to the men. Lord Jason Mallister and Ser Brynden followed Robb’s lead. The Frey heir seemed baffled by this and focused his men retrieving weapons, armor, and horses from the dead. The Mormont and Umber soldiers were rounding up prisoners and others still were gathering up the bodies of the fallen.

 

The North and Riverlands had lost few. Jon stared at the bodies and wondered how many more they’d lose before the war was through. How many brothers and fathers would die? His thoughts returned to his father as he continued to walk amongst the wounded.

 

x-x-x

 

The party had stopped at an inn and Yoren had allowed Ned to bathe. His clothes weren’t as foul as they had been in the black cells but he’d begun to detect the presence of fleas. The cast made bathing difficult so he wasn’t able to fully submerge into the water as he wished.

 

When he was back in his cell, a boy named Lommy brought him food and a tankard of ale. It was watered down but after a long few days, he swore he’d never tasted better. He wondered what the village was. It was too dark to see landmarks.

 

His daughter’s angered voice caught his attention and he turned, his eyes seeking her. Ned found Arya arguing with one of the prisoners in the other wagon and he almost shouted her name. His daughter had always been too bold, so much like his sister Lyanna with the blood of the wolf, but talking to dangerous men in shackles when she had been warned against it? She said something sharply to one of them and used her wooden sword to rap him across the knuckles. The man called Biter taunted her each time her sword made contact.

 

Catching himself, he yelled, “Arry!” As he did, Gendry walked up and pulled her away from the men, reprimanding her. Ned’s jaw tightened and he sorely wanted to take his daughter across his knee. He rarely raised his voice to his children unless it was a matter of their safety.

 

Arya glanced in his direction and looked away quickly. In Winterfell, she would hide in one of the boy’s rooms, usually Jon’s, from Septa Mordane or her mother.  She was bold until it came to facing her parents, the two people _least_ likely to hurt her. She’d avoid him until she sensed he’d have forgotten about the incident. Arya was particularly loath to face Ned when he was angry. Catelyn could scream or give her punishments and Arya would barely blink. But Ned would merely have to say her name and she’d crumble.

 

Ned loved all of his children, but while Sansa sought out Catelyn’s approval and advice, Arya always had come to him since she could walk. If she had a nightmare, she’d go to his room and climb in bed with him. If he happened to be in Cat’s room, she’d go to Jon. When she was small, close to Rickon’s age now, she had dragged him out of bed multiple times in the middle of the night to bring his sword and check under her bed. He’d ended up moving her to a chamber that Theon had once had down the hall from Robb and Jon, despite Cat’s objections.  Sansa stayed near her mother but Arya was caught going from one corridor to another at night. The only way he could keep her from roaming to castle was to put her near her older brothers. Many mornings he’d find Bran or Arya coming from Jon’s room. Jon had the patience for his younger siblings, while Robb would tease them for being frightened if they came to him.

 

His children had grown up so fast. He had been able to accept that Robb and Jon were nearly men grown, but he still wished to hold the younger ones. Sansa seemed to have blossomed overnight. His chest tightened at the thought of his eldest daughter, and guilt washed over him. He knew she’d pleaded for him in court and Joffrey had forced her to stand by his side when they’d sentenced him. She’d looked so much like her mother. When did she become a woman? He prayed to the gods that she wouldn’t flower too soon, so that she might be spared marriage for now.

 

Ned’s breath caught as six mounted Gold Cloaks rode up to Yoren at the head of their small company. He heard one of the younger boys ask why the City Watch was away from the capital. A feeling of dread settled in his stomach as he watched Yoren pull a blade, warning the men away.

 

Arya crouched down and their eyes met. He realized suddenly that the men might not be there for him. He was set for exile, but Arya could be used against Robb. If anything had happened to Sansa…Gods, no…

 

The gold cloaks announced they had a warrant from the queen for the arrest of Gendry Waters. Before Ned could breathe a sigh of relief, he realized what was happening. Cersei was gathering up Robert’s bastards. She was assuring none could threaten the claims of her own children. That might work with baseborn children, but surely Cersei wasn’t foolish enough to think she could prevent Lord Stannis.

 

Yoren held a sword to one of them. “You might have a warrant but you aren’t taking any of these men. They belong to the Night’s Watch now and any crimes they’ve committed…”

 

“We have a royal warrant and we will be taking the boy,” another said firmly.

 

“We’ll stop you!” A boy yelled. Some of the men had come out of the inn and were arming themselves. The Gold Cloaks not held by Yoren drew their swords. Ned felt helpless in his cage, unarmed and shackled, but he was glad to see that both Gendry and Arya had hidden themselves.

 

All at once, the night came alive with the thunderous sounds of mounted soldiers riding hard and fast into the village. Ned got up on his knees to see if Arya was still hidden as he attempted to force the cage door open. He tried to kick the door with his good leg but it wouldn’t budge. The men and boys of the Night’s Watch as well as the Gold Cloaks looked confused, but remained alert.

 

“Here, m’lord,” the boy called Lommy said and he wriggled a knife in the lock. After some maneuvering, he opened the lock with a grin. “I can’t help you with the shackles though.”

 

“You have my gratitude,” Ned said, scooting to the end of the wagon and sliding out of it. He faltered a bit when he landed on his bad leg but remained upright.  “Lad, go hide yourself.”

 

Ned picked up a sword from where the Gold Cloak had dropped it. Yoren glared at him for a moment then seemed to realize he needed Ned’s help. “So many men for one boy?” Yoren asked the Gold Cloak, blood trickling from where his sword dug into the man’s thigh.

 

“Those aren’t our men,” the man said.

 

Ned glanced at Yoren and warned, “It’s the Lannisters. Get the others out of here. They’re coming for me or…Arry…”

 

Before Yoren could answer, three of lead horses were upon them. As he scanned the men riding into view, Ned found himself staring up into familiar faces. He registered the shields of House Stark and Umber, and some of the mountain tribes as well.

 

“Lord Stark, it’s good to see you again,” Smalljon Umber said, dismounting.

 

“What’s this?” Ned said numbly. Seeing Ser Rodrik, he realized they’d come for him. “No! Is Robb a fool? They’ll kill Sansa.”

 

“Unlikely, unless the queen wants her brother to die, my lord,” Ser Rodrik said with a nod.

 

Ned was furious. “That won’t prevent Cersei. She cares little for Tyrion!”

 

“No, my lord, you misunderstand,” Smalljon said with a wide smile. “Your sons have captured the Kingslayer.”

 

The Gold Cloaks were forgotten as Ned’s mind raced. Sons? What was Jon doing with Robb? How had they captured Jaime Lannister? Obviously Robb had taken up arms again despite his vow to the crown. He had to at least get Arya out of here, but if he left himself, would Cersei risk Jaime’s life by killing Sansa? It was unlikely, but not a risk he was willing to take.

 

“You cannot take a confessed traitor!” one of the Gold Cloaks said and reached for Ned, his sword drawn. Instinct kicked in and Ned batted it away.

 

The other Gold Cloaks started attacking, despite them being outnumbered by the northmen. Within minutes, the Gold Cloaks were dead except the one held by Yoren. Ned had one of the men bind him and put him in the wagon Ned had previously occupied. He was turning towards Yoren when he felt small arms encircle his waist.

 

“Gods, is that Lady Arya?” Ser Rodrik stepped forward to look at her face, his eyes wide. Ned didn’t know if he’d ever seen a bigger smile on the knight’s face as he knelt beside her. “We’ve had people searching for you in King’s Landing. Your mother and brothers were prepared to tear apart the Riverlands, my lady.”

 

“Catelyn’s involved in this?” Ned looked up in surprise. He glanced around them and saw many eyes upon them. “We should speak privately. Yoren, if you could?” He gestured to his shackles and the grizzled old man frowned. 

 

“You’re still my prisoner,” he said. Lowering his voice so that only those closest to him could hear, he said, “Perhaps if I was held at sword point by one of your men, I would have _no choice_ but to do it. Yet I can’t just…” before he finished the sentence, a sword was at his throat and two were at his back. He reached into his pocket and handed the keys to Ser Rodrik.

 

Recognizing a man from Winterfell, Ned ordered, “Arya, you go find Gendry and come inside the inn as well. Jacks, remain with my daughter and her friend.” As soon as Arya ran off, Yoren looked at him with surprise. “You know I can’t leave him with you, Yoren. The Gold Cloaks will be back for him.”

 

“My lord…” Yoren began then shook his head. “Meet with your men and we will discuss this matter.”

 

Leaving the other Northmen outside, Smalljon and Ser Rodrik followed Ned as he limped into the inn, taking a quiet table in the back. There were few patrons about. Ned waited for a boy to bring them ale before he demanded the two explain. After they did he was quiet for a few moments, his mind spinning.

 

“I already confessed to being a traitor to the realm and vowed I’d go to the Night’s Watch,” he said softly.

 

“Your son thought you might feel torn about that,” Smalljon answered with a small grin. “Then he pointed out that you were sentenced by a _false_ king so it wasn’t proper justice. You were forced to confess since you never committed treason.”

 

“He thinks he knows me that well, does he?” Ned had to smile at that. “But aye, Lord Stannis is the true heir.”

 

“Stannis sent ravens to every lord announcing that fact. But Stannis would have you sent to the Wall and hold both of your girls hostage himself,” Ser Rodrik pointed out. “Your son believes that while Renly may not be the rightful king, he’s the right man for the position. Just as you and Robert rebelled against the Mad King, Renly and Robb are rebelling. Together, they already have the North, the Riverlands, most of the Stormlands and all of the Reach. Stannis has a handful of minor lords, and he’s following some fire priestess from Asshai, who has declared him the ‘Lord of Light’s chosen’ or some such nonsense.”

 

“Chosen what?” Smalljon asked, then smirked. “Judging by the number of men sworn to King Renly instead of Stannis, the Lord of Light appears to be the only one who chose him.”

 

“How many men does Renly have?” Ned asked, stunned at these developments. Perhaps he should have listened more to Renly in King’s Landing.

 

“Over a hundred thousand, my lord, the might of the Reach and most of the Stormlands,” Ser Rodrik said and Ned was taken aback for a moment. “Lord Robb has twenty thousand men including the Freys, but I’m not sure how many men the Riverlords can field at this time”

 

Ned watched Arya, Gendry, and the Winterfell man enter the inn. No matter what he decided to do with himself, he had to get his daughter and Robert’s boy to safety.

 


	4. Chapter 3

 

 

 

 

A/N Thanks to my wonderful beta, [Auria](../../../users/Auria). Thank you for all your help!

 

**Chapter 3**

 

When she saw her son alive and well, Catelyn smiled through the tears she hadn’t allowed to escape her eyes. Although she’d presented a brave front through the battle, her fear for Robb’s life had never been far away. She’d insisted that she remain nearby so Robb had allowed her to wait on the hill above the Whispering Wood with thirty of his men. “Are you injured?” she asked, reaching toward his arm.

 

Glancing down, Robb saw the blood smeared on his armor and glove. “It’s Torrhen or Eddard Karstark’s blood. Or one of the other fallen Northmen,” he said dismissively. “I’m uninjured, but Jon needs stitches.” His battle with Jaime Lannister had given his brother a few cuts serious enough to require stitches, but Jon had refused to have them looked at while others more gravely injured.

 

Lady Stark glanced at Jon for a moment before saying, “See that they are looked at.” Robb was surprised at a slight flicker of concern. “Robb doesn’t need to worry about your injuries festering.”

 

Jon looked surprised as well, but merely nodded. “Yes, my lady.”

 

The Greatjon came up with the Kingslayer and threw him at her feet with a big smile. “We captured the Kingslayer, Lady Catelyn. Or I should say these lads and their wolves did.”

 

Catelyn studied Jaime Lannister, her eyes like chips of ice as her mouth tightened. Jaime gave her a cocky grin. “Lady Stark, I’d offer you my sword but I seem to have lost it.”

 

“It is not your sword I want, ser,” she told him. “Give me my father and my brother. _Give me my daughter._ ”

 

Jaime shot her a cocky smile, and chuckled. “I don’t think you understand how this hostage situation works. Your son broke his word. Your daughters will suffer the consequences and that guilt rests on his shoulders. And _yours_. You should have gone back to that cold wasteland you call home.”

 

“The queen won’t harm my sister knowing your head would be on a block immediately after,” Robb declared. “Lord Umber, take him away and put him in irons. And assign a strong guard.”

 

After he’d been dragged away, taunting them all the while, Catelyn turned to find her uncle in the ranks. Robb stroked the horse he’d ridden back from the battle. He had no idea whose horse it was, only that it was one of Lannister army’s and also one of the few that hadn’t ran away after the battle. The mare had been skittish about Grey Wind but allowed Robb to mount her after a few soothing words. He mounted her again and he and Jon rode to the camp. Jon had been very quiet since the battle, unlike most of the men who were rowdy about their win. At the camp, he dismounted and glanced over at Jon with a smile and said, “Let’s have a healer look at your cuts. I’d feel guilty if they did fester.”

 

“They’re fine,” Jon attempted to wave him off but Robb took Jon’s shoulder in hand.

 

“What’s with you?” he asked, studying his brother.

 

“When the Kingslayer was speaking to your mother, he said _daughters_ , not daughter. What if the Lannisters do have Arya? They could easily kill one of them to show they’re willing to do so,” Jon replied, his brows furrowed.

 

Robb shook his head. “Renly’s spies have seen no sign of her and the Lannisters are still looking. No, Arya has gotten out of the city somehow.”

 

“We’re putting all of our faith in people who pretend they are loyal to Joffrey while they spy for Renly. Who are these people that you’re putting so much confidence in?” Jon demanded in a low voice, his eyes full of anger. “Do you know or do you trust blindly? We trusted his spies about our Father and Sansa, now you trust them about Arya. You also have spies that are telling you about a Targaryen queen and dragons? Should I assume those aren’t the same spies?”

 

Robb grabbed Jon’s arm and dragged him into his tent, whirling on him. “Have you lost your mind? What if someone had heard you? Renly’s spies have been right so far. Why shouldn’t we trust them?”

 

Jon’s expression darkened. “Because of their very nature: they’re spies. We don’t know them. We’re trusting Renly, but neither of us have met him either. He said exactly what we wanted to hear, knew all the right words to say to win our loyalty. That doesn’t mean everything is true. Perhaps he only gave us enough truth to make us believe in him. Or perhaps his spies are playing him false. We’ve gone into this blindly, without any confirmation from Dacey and Daryn as we were promised. And for the last time, who is this spy who gave you the information about the Targaryen girl?”

 

Robb tightened his jaw and turned away. In truth, he had been surprised that Jon had not pressed him from more information from the start but had convinced himself that perhaps his brother had accepted him at his word.  He ought to have known better; Jon had always been more suspicious by nature, slow to warm up to people and even slower to trust them. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

 

“Try me,” Jon demanded, stepping closer.

 

“Lord Varys has spies everywhere in Westeros and across the sea, everyone knows that. And if this information had come directly from him, I’d _never_ believe it,” Robb said, before looking directly into Jon’s eyes. “I’d only trust information such as this from someone that I knew Father trusted, who had a reputation of the utmost honor.”

 

Jon made a small noise of impatience and Robb hesitated. What if Jon didn’t see things as he did, told him he was a fool? Jon had a point about spies but this man wasn’t a spy. He was a knight, one of the bravest and the truest knights in the realm. “It was Ser Barristan Selmy.”

 

“What?” Jon exclaimed, mouth agape. “That’s impossible. He’s the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard…”

 

“He _was_ Lord Commander. When Robert died and Father was betrayed, Joffrey and the Queen Regent dismissed him due to ‘old age’, but it was only a sham to allow the Lannisters to put Sandor Clegane in the Kingsguard and promote Jaime Lannister to Lord Commander. Joffrey even accused him of letting Robert die. He then ordered him to be seized and questioned for plotting with Lord Stannis.” Robb poured them both some wine and began removing his armor. “Ser Barristan was wroth, as you can imagine. He realized he never should have served King Robert after he allowed the Lannisters to go unpunished after murdering Prince Rhaegar’s wife and children. He should have served the _true_ king, Viserys Targaryen **,** or died loyal.”

 

“Bran worshipped him, dreamed of the day he would meet him in King’s Landing. I cannot believe he’d turn against the king…”

 

“Which king?” Robb demanded. “Aerys and Robert are dead. Viserys Targaryen is dead as well now. Joffrey is a bastard, born of incest and, regardless, he dismissed Selmy, accusing him of plotting against him.”

 

Jon shook his head in disbelief. After a moment he said, “It’s hard to know the honorable thing to do in such times. I wonder if Father felt this way during Robert’s Rebellion.”

 

Robb had felt the same way for the entirety of the march south, up until Ser Barristan had come to him. “He came under the cover of darkness to our camp, seeking out Ser Brynden. He wished to speak to me alone so the Blackfish brought him to my tent. Ser Barristan told me what had happened within the small council before Father’s arrest, when Robert intended to have Daenerys murdered. Father refused to order it because he felt that Daenerys was just a young girl, and that the rumors of dragons were nonsense spread by a man exiled for selling slaves. Jorah Mormont was sending word of her movements to Robert through Varys. Ser Barristan was the only one who agreed with Father. When Robert gave him no other choice, Father resigned as Hand of the King. That was the day that Jaime Lannister attacked him in the streets, killing Jory, Wyl, and Heward, and wounding Father.”

 

“I thought Jaime attacked Father due to your mother kidnapping Tyrion?”

 

“That was the reason Jaime confronted him, but I doubt he would have dared it if Robert weren’t already raging against Father or if Father had still been the King’s Hand. Robert and Father made peace, of course, before the king went on that fateful hunt. Ser Barristan was also there in the throne room when Father was betrayed as well. He said he knew Father must have had proof of the Lannisters’ treachery, or he would never have claimed that Joffrey wasn’t the rightful king. He trusted Father would not lie, and so he sought me out. When I showed him Stannis’ letter, he warned me not to declare for Stannis, that Stannis had abandoned King’s Landing and that there were rumors that he followed some fire priestess of Asshai. Then he told me about Daenerys and said that she was the rightful heir to the throne. Varys had come to him while he was hiding in the capital after the City Watch attempted to apprehend him.”

 

“If Varys is spying for Renly, as well as Joffrey, how could you or Ser Barristan possibly trust him, Robb?”

 

“He’s not Renly’s connection, I already asked Loras. He scoffed at the thought, saying that there was no love between Renly and Varys. Even Ser Barristan said he wouldn’t normally trust the word of the Spider, but he’d already heard rumors about dragons and a Targaryen queen at the head of a Dothraki Khalasar from sailors on the docks, sailors from Pentos, Volantis, Myr, and even Qarth. Every story was the same, or close enough not to matter. Ser Barristan told me that he was going to Slaver’s Bay and that he’d do what he could to convince Daenerys that we’d be loyal to her if she came to Westeros, despite the bad blood between the Starks and Targaryens. Provided we don’t ally with Stannis, of course,” Robb explained.

 

Jon’s features remained guarded. Robb let out a sound of frustration and hastened his explanation, trying to make his brother understand. “What could I do? Risk angering a woman with dragons and more than enough reasons to hate us? I did what I had to, to protect our family, to protect the North. I am responsible for both, not you, not anyone else! I gave Ser Barristan my word that I would not ally with Stannis.”

 

Jon’s grey eyes narrowed as he watched him, cold chips of flint boring into his face. Robb could see his normally composed brother was struggling to contain himself. Instead, he ground out, “So you turned around and allied with a different Baratheon instead? You are mad! You say you gave Ser Barristan your word …”

 

“And I didn’t break my word! Besides, that was before Loras came with Renly’s offer.”

 

Jon shook his head slowly, brow lined deeply. “Where is your honor, brother?” he said, rising. “Your loyalty shifts with the wind. How can you expect your men not to do the same? You are quick to justify every action, like it will have no consequence.”

 

“I did as our father did when he marched to war with Robert Baratheon. I made the best decision for the North. My loyalty is to our family and our people. Perhaps if Father had put us before his loyalty to southern king, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” Robb replied shortly. “Forgive me for thinking that the lives of our family and those of our Northmen are more important than who sits on the Iron Throne.”

 

Jon stared at him for a long moment. “This won’t end well, mark my words.”  He stormed from the tent, Ghost following behind him, a silent shadow. Robb picked up his cup of wine and threw it after him. He’d thought that Jon would understand, that he could make him understand. He was trying to protect their family in the upcoming fight for the throne. He hoped their father would agree that he had done the right thing.

 

x-x-x

 

Ned signaled Arya and Gendry to come to him. When they did, he introduced Gendry to Ser Rodrik and the Smalljon. He couldn’t help noticing how Rodrik gaped at the sight of the boy. Gendry looked down while he was being studied.

 

“Jacks, go to the innkeeper and arrange for Arya to have a bath and some clean clothes, if they have any that will fit. I won’t send her to her mother looking like this,” Ned said and Jacks nodded.

 

“Send me to Mother? You’re not coming with me?” Arya said with confusion. “But Robb saved you from…”

 

“Arya, I gave my word…”

 

“To the evil queen and that idiot Joffrey!” she exclaimed excitedly. “You didn’t commit treason, so why should you be punished?”

 

Ned gave her a stern look. “Arya Stark, you will _not_ question me.  You will do as I bid and we’ll speak when you’re ready to depart. We’ll also talk about disobeying Yoren by talking to those prisoners.”

 

Arya opened her mouth to argue again, but realized it would only make it worse and nodded reluctantly. “What about Gendry?”

 

“Gendry, I will speak with you when I’m done here.”

 

“Yes milord,” Gendry said, his curiosity apparent, but turning to leave as ordered.

 

When the two of them wandered away, Ned turned back to see Smalljon hiding a smile behind his tankard. Ser Rodrik appeared to be trying to resist one. “Lady Arya seems even bolder than when I last saw her.”

 

“She witnessed horrible things,” Ned said quietly, watching his daughter run up the stairs to the rooms of the inn. Both men grew somber when he continued, “She discovered my household murdered. I had allowed her to take lessons from a Bravossi dancing master, who protected her when the Lannisters came for her. If not, she’d be in their hands as well. After discovering the slaughter in the Tower of the Hand, she ran and lived on the city streets.”

 

“And she was in the city the whole time you were in the cells?” Smalljon asked in surprise. “She’s a brave little girl.”

 

Ned felt the familiar tightness in his chest when he thought of Sansa again, all alone in the capital. “She shouldn’t have had to be so brave. If Yoren hadn’t found her and brought her with us, she would have been lost.”

 

Neither man said anything and Ned studied his ale for a few moments, hoping for answers. He knew he was honor bound to go to the Night’s Watch but if he did, he couldn’t protect his family. But leaving would put everyone at greater risk. He wanted to see his sons again, and his Cat.

 

His honor, duty, and mercy had resulted in his betrayal in King’s Landing. His daughter was a prisoner, at the mercy of the Lannisters. He’d forsaken his honor before with his lies to Catelyn. Was it more honorable to protect his family or keep his word to a false king, to the queen who’d murdered both his foster father and oldest friend, the latter his king and the man who would have been his brother? His duty had always been so important to him but as Lord of Winterfell there were times when his duties conflicted with one another.

 

“My lord, forgive me for being so forthright,” Ser Rodrik began. At Ned’s nod, he continued. “Lord Robb and King Renly went to a lot of effort to see that you were not punished for a treason you didn’t commit. They’ve planned a way to rescue Lady Sansa. Would it not be more honorable to remain true to those who have been true to you, rather than to the people who betrayed you with no remorse? Should you remain loyal to a false king who is the product of incest? Or is there more honor in your loyalty to Lady Stark and your children? To your people, who need you as winter falls upon us?”

 

Ned examined the old knight. Rodrik’s loyalty to House Stark was strong, deeply rooted, and he’d watched Ned’s children grow up. He’d trained Ned’s sons at arms and his daughter played with Ned’s own. His nephew Jory had died defending Ned against Jaime Lannister and Ned knew Ser Rodrik would likewise sacrifice his own life for Ned or any of his family. Ser Rodrik was an honorable and dutiful man. If his advice mirrored Ned’s thoughts, it was not wrong to believe him. It couldn’t be. Never had his honor or duty been so conflicted save when he first told Cat of Jon.

 

“I will go north with you. But we must escort these boys as well. If anyone discovers that Yoren allowed me to escape, there will be consequences. We must take Yoren as our hostage for all appearance’s sake,” he finally said.

 

Both men were visibly relieved. “It is good of you to decide that my lord. Lord Robb ordered that if you refused that we were to bring you by force,” Smalljon admitted. Ned shook his head, in disbelief that his son had grown so bold as to even consider that.

 

At that moment, Gendry walked into the common room and Ser Rodrik turned quickly to face Ned. “My lord, who is that boy? He’s a shade of…” his voice trailed off as he continued to stare.

 

“He’s Robert Baratheon’s bastard,” Ned finished. “I must speak with him now. If the queen wants to kill Robert’s bastards, we must protect him. We’ll take him with us and send him on to either the Night’s Watch or a castle in the north, depending on what’s needed. He’s a gifted smith. I think Mikken could make good use of him.”

 

x-x-x

 

Renly read through the reports of the Lannister movements at Riverrun as Mace Tyrell droned on about their supplies. Finally, he looked up and said, “I’m not going to attempt a siege of Riverrun, so for how long do we need supplies? We’re there to scatter the remaining lions. We outnumber them and they’re leaderless. Robb Stark and his Northmen will be advancing by nightfall.”

 

“They may have lost the Kingslayer, Your Grace, but that doesn’t make them leaderless,” Randyll Tarly pointed out. “If you underestimate them, then they gain an advantage.”

 

Renly grew weary of these men wrapping their words in courtesy while still speaking to him like he had no sense. He had seen this at court when people would speak to Robert. They respected him because he was their king, not because they felt that Robert deserved their respect. At one time he had. His brother had been a fierce warrior and as a boy, Renly had worshipped him, believed him capable of anything. But as he matured, Renly saw his brother become a drunken fool who only held onto his kingdom through Jon Arryn’s hard work.

 

“Do we have any reports from the men that assaulted Lord Tywin’s troops?” he asked Mace Tyrell, ignoring Lord Tarly for the moment.

 

“Of the two thousand, only a few hundred survived. They retreated to the Stark’s camp as it was closer. The Lannisters are still unaware of our location, it appears,” Lord Tarly answered him instead. “Ser Loras says they were forced to leave some injured men behind, but none that would warrant ransom.”

 

Renly took a sip of his wine and smiled at him, all teeth. “And does that make it better, that our injured weren’t worth anything to their lords?” Randyll Tarly looked annoyed, but shook his head slightly. “I do not care if the man is a Lord or the son of a whore, I want all of my men to be given the proper respect or we’re no better than Stannis or Tywin.” Rising quickly, he swept out the tent, Brienne of Tarth and Robar Royce following in his wake.

  
His temper was short. The battle for Riverrun was fast approaching and he found himself increasingly anxious. Renly normally had more patience, but he knew that the upcoming battle would proclaim to all of Westeros whether or not he had lived up to his brother’s reputation. Robb Stark and he had begun this war as green boys, both unbloodied by combat. Stark had since proven himself by capturing the infamous Kingslayer, but thus far, Renly’s greatest accomplishment was his marriage to Margaery Tyrell He had also plotted to rescue of someone else’s family ~~,~~ and sent hundreds of men to their death, but those were not the stuff of songs. He knew that if he failed at Riverrun, the Stormlands lords might have cause to doubt his claim over Stannis’.

 

 _Stannis._ His brother would never give up his claim to the throne. No matter what happened with the Lannisters, even if Renly won every battle and slew Tywin Lannister with his own hand, Stannis wouldn’t allow Renly to take the Iron Throne without a fight. He wondered if Robert was alive and knew the truth about Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella, if he’d support Renly as his heir. Ned Stark hadn’t been convinced and Renly had taken his chances with the son. Renly had always been better than Stannis at gaining people’s loyalties, after all: in that, he was Robert’s true successor. It had ensured that that he remained up-to-date on everything that happened in the capital.

 

He hesitated when he got to his tent. He knew that Margaery wouldn’t attempt to come to his bed if she was asleep, but it was early yet. Turning to Brienne as he walked past the tent, he said, “I think I should see Lord Garlan.”

 

x-x-x

 

Gendry approached Ned cautiously and asked, “You wished to speak with me, milord?”

 

“Yes, lad. Please sit. Have you eaten?” Ned asked, signaling for more ale.

 

“Yes, milord.”

 

After a boy poured their ale and left them, Ned sat with his hands crossed for a few moments. Then he looked at Gendry and asked, “Do you know why the queen issued a warrant for your arrest?”

 

Gendry hesitated. “Milord, I’ve done no crime, I swear it. I worked in the forge and no one paid me any mind until Lord Arryn came to ask me questions, followed by yourself. Not long after that, Master Mott sent me to the Night’s Watch. I suppose he had no further use for me.”

 

“No, lad, that’s not it.” Ned took a deep breath. “The reason both Lord Arryn and I asked you about your parents was that we knew who your father was. Gendry, your father was Robert Baratheon. Tobho Mott probably sent you away to protect you.”

 

“The dead king?” Gendry’s mouth was open. Ned wondered if he believed him. _Most likely not._ Once he saw Renly, the boy might be more convinced. “So, the queen wants to arrest me for being the king’s bastard? Is that a crime now, milord?” Despite his common birth, he was bold and direct, Baratheon through and through like his father. Ned had to smile.

 

He debated telling the boy about the queen’s children. It could cost Gendry more than it was worth. Once he was in Robb’s camp, he might hear it on his own but it might be best not to come from Ned. While Robb had shared Stannis’ raven about the queen’s children with his war council, Ned didn’t know how far these rumors had traveled as of yet. “I don’t know the true reasons, but I have my suspicions that the queen intends to kill all of the king’s bastards. They put her sons’ claims in jeopardy.”

 

Gendry thought about it a moment. “Even if I am his bastard, milord, how would that put his trueborn sons’ claims in jeopardy? I’m still a bastard even if my father was a king.”

 

“You would think so.” Ned sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Queen Cersei does not want to risk it.”

 

“You said ‘bastards’. Does that mean there are others? Did any of them know the former king?”

 

Ned felt a pang of loss for Robert. “There were quite a few. I’m unsure of how many. But I do know that there is a son that he acknowledged at Storm’s End, as well as a daughter in the Vale. Mya Stone is three or four years older than you and Edric Storm is about the same number of years younger than you.”

 

“And he acknowledged the one? So most likely he didn’t know about me.” Gendry’s eyes bore into him and Ned saw in him the same need he’d often seen in Jon: the need to feel wanted despite the circumstances of his birth.

 

“Edric’s mother was a noblewoman and their…” Ned paused, trying to think of a way to word it that wasn’t offensive to Robert’s memory.

 

“Fucking?” Gendry offered and Ned frowned. Clearly taking note of his expression, Gendry corrected himself, “I mean, bedding, milord.” Ned could see that Gendry didn’t have much practice speaking with the noble-born; Tobho Mott would have handled anyone of note in the shop in King’s Landing.

 

“Yes, it was well known, so Robert acknowledged Edric. He remains at Storm’s End, the seat of his uncle Renly. Mya was Robert’s daughter from when he was fostered with Lord Arryn in the Vale. He spent time with her when she was a child.” Gendry nodded after a moment and Ned continued. “But someone paid your apprentice fee, so it’s possible, I suppose, that the king did know.”

 

He watched Gendry absorb all that he’d said. When he appeared ready, Ned asked, “Gendry, do you _want_ to join the Night’s Watch? Or would you prefer to smith or hold another position in a household?”

 

“I like being a blacksmith. I’m good at it,” Gendry stated plainly. “I suppose it’s stupid for a low-born bastard to _want_ to be a knight but…” he trailed off and looked embarrassed. “No, milord, I don’t want to go to the Night’s Watch.”

 

Ned nodded with a smile. “It’s not stupid to want to be a knight, no matter your station. It’s not easy for any man to become a knight. You’ll need to be trained in arms. That man over there is Ser Rodrik Cassel and he’s one of the best in Westeros. He trained my sons, Robb and Jon, in arms. I learned tonight that they have captured Ser Jaime Lannister, one of the best fighters in the realm. Perhaps you’d like to come to Winterfell once we leave here. If not, once you meet your uncle, Lor…King Renly, perhaps he could arrange for you to reside in Storm’s End with Edric and be trained. The north doesn’t have many knights because we don’t follow the Faith of the Seven, but we have many brave, fierce soldiers.”

 

“Lady Arya said that your son, Jon, was a bastard too. Perhaps if Ser Rodrik trained Jon, he’d be willing to train me if this other king doesn’t want me around,” Gendry said thoughtfully. Finally his eyes met Ned’s and he asked, “Milord, I’m grateful for this kindness, but I don’t understand why you care what happens to me.”

 

 _Because my foolishness led to Robert’s death, because I failed him, because this is the least I can do for him_. “Robert was my friend for many years. I owe it to him to watch over his children,” he answered simply. “And you looked after Arya. Is it so rare that you’re given kindness without reason?”

 

“Yes, especially from high-born folk,” Gendry said quickly and glanced away, gazing at Arya talking to Ser Rodrik and the Smalljon. After a few moments, he smiled slowly, “I knew she was a girl all along. I’m not as stupid as the others.”

 

Ned wrinkled his brow. Surely, Arya was much too young to be considered in _that_ manner, but then Gendry _was_ Robert’s son. Ned couldn’t risk it. “Gendry, my daughter is somewhat less lady-like than she should be, but she _is_ a lady and still a little girl, an _innocent_ girl. If a man were to touch my daughter inappropriately, I would be honor-bound it handle it the Northern way, with a block and a sword.”

 

Gendry looked at him with wide eyes as he shook his head quickly. “No, milord. It’s not like that with me and her. I would never touch a high-born girl, innocent or not. And she is a child besides. I know I’m just a lowborn bastard. I won’t forget my place. You have my word.”

 

Ned sighed and looked Gendry in the eyes. “This has nothing to do with her being high-born or you being a bastard. Lad, you could be a lord or a knight and it would not matter. I still would not allow you to touch my daughter in that manner. She was raised to be a lady, even if at times she doesn’t act it, and proper ladies do not…lie with a man before they are married.”

 

“But Edric Storm’s mother was a noblewoman and she wasn’t married to the king when she lay with him,” Gendry began, until he caught sight of Ned’s expression. His eyes widened. “I didn’t mean that I disagree with you about Lady Arya, I only meant…” Gendry swallowed deeply. “I won’t touch her milord. You have my word. But if it pleases you, I’d like to remain her friend. She’s clever and I enjoy her company more than some of these boys.”

 

Ned studied Gendry. He knew the boy was unrefined, but he seemed to have some honor and respect about him. Arya would be less likely to get in trouble attempting to entertain herself if she had a companion. “You may remain her friend, but in exchange for the trust I’m placing in you, I expect something in return. You will see that my daughter stays out of trouble.”

 

Hesitating a moment, Gendry asked, “And if she gets in trouble, but I _try_ to stop her, will my head still end up on a block?”

 

Ned had to laugh. “If that were the case, lad, I’d have lost half the men and women in my household by now, not to mention her septa _and_ her older siblings.”

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 4

 

 

 

A/N Thanks to my wonderful beta, [Auria](../../../users/Auria). Thank you for all your help! Seriously this fic wouldn't be as good without your input and advice!

 

**Chapter 4**

 

Standing in Hammond’s small cottage, Dacey cautiously drew her dagger. The flame of the candle had almost burned out, but she didn’t need it to see that their contact wasn’t in residence, and hadn’t been for hours. Something was amiss. She’d sensed it as soon as she’d arrived from the Red Keep. Hearing a noise behind her, she swung around, dagger poised to strike. It was only Daryn.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly.

 

“Hammond isn’t here, but his door was open when I arrived,” she explained. “Something has happened to him. It feels wrong in here.”

 

Daryn crouched beside the bed, staring hard at the floor. “This bed has been moved.”

 

Dacey studied the rushes on the ground and could see where they’d been disturbed. “We should see what we find.”

 

The two of them shifted the bed and found a small chest underneath. Daryn kicked the old lock with his heel, breaking it easily. Dacey knelt down and opened it, finding a scrap of parchment inside. ~~~~

_The Gold Cloaks came to question me about His Grace. It’s not safe for me in King’s Landing anymore. Forgive me. I will not abandon you though. There is an inn in Eel Alley halfway up Visenya’s Hill from the harbor. Come to me tonight in the Hour of the Wolf. The only women out in the streets at that time are whores, but a young man would not arouse too much suspicion. If you do not find this message, I will find another way to reach you. There are others that will help you if any ill should find me, others who are still loyal to our true king._

 

Dacey took the parchment and ripped it so only the location of the inn remained, handing it to Daryn. “You must go tonight. He is risking everything with this message. If we found it so easily…”

 

“It was not wise. I only hope these others he speaks of are more cautious. Clearly, Hammond was unnerved easily, which makes me worry what he might reveal if pressed too hard. I will encourage him to leave the city if there is someone else that can help us. You must remain close to Lady Sansa, as close as you can without arousing suspicion,” Daryn said quietly. “I fear the danger has only begun if the Gold Cloaks are questioning Hammond. Tomorrow is Joffrey’s Name Day tournament. He will keep Sansa close, but there will be too many eyes on him to risk harming her.”

 

Dacey shook her head as she rose, holding the remainder of the parchment over a candle. “The people do not seem to care what happens to their future queen. I do not understand them.”

 

“The small folk loved Robert Baratheon and think of Joffrey as his son. And Lord Stark admitted he betrayed Robert and was a traitor. Lady Sansa is his daughter; why should they care about her?”

 

“She’s only a young girl.”

 

“As was Rhaenys Targaryen,” Daryn replied somberly.

 

They moved the bed back into place and attempted to cover any evidence of their presence. Daryn assured Dacey he’d meet her tomorrow in the Godswood. Hopefully he’d have news of Lord Robb and the Kingslayer by then.

 

~*~

 

Sansa braced herself for a blow that never came. Ser Meryn loomed over her, his arm drawn back as if to strike, while Joffrey watched, his wormy lips drawn back in a cruel smile. Sandor Clegane stood behind him, expressionless. “No, Ser Meryn. I do not wish my future queen to appear bruised at my Name Day celebration.” Ser Meryn took a few steps back and Joffrey moved closer to Sansa. “You know that now your brother has betrayed me. I will drag your father back and behead him as I did your Septa and the rest of your father’s household. I intend to make you watch.”

 

 _Father and I have done nothing. Why must you punish us?_ “Someone must have lied,” she beseeched him. “My brother would not break his word. Perhaps it is one of your uncles riding under a Stark banner to deceive you. They are fighting to take your throne, not Robb.”

 

“All men want to be king.” Joffrey laughed. “Is your brother a eunuch?”

 

“No. _He’s_ a man grown and Lord of Winterfell,” Sansa argued, then bit her tongue. She could see the anger flare up in Joffrey’s eyes.

 

“Not for long. After I bring back your father and take his head, your brother will be next; your mother and little brothers as well, even the crippled one. I will burn Winterfell and put everyone you ever knew to the sword,” he threatened, grasping her arm tightly.

 

 _The Northmen will not allow Winterfell to fall to any king. Only a fool like Joffrey would think they would betray the Starks._ “There has been a Stark in Winterfell for eight thousand years and there will always _be_ a Stark in Winterfell,” Sansa declared proudly. She knew that she was foolish to speak like this, that she risked angering him further, but he had threatened everyone in her family, even Bran and baby Rickon. Who knew what he’d already done to Arya. Sansa might not look like a Stark, but the longer she remained in King’s Landing, the more the blood surged within her. _The blood of the First Men_ she knew.

 

Sansa had once dreamed of King’s Landing, believing it to be full of handsome princes and noble knights, a world taken from the songs. Now she only wished for the chill of summer snows and the sound of wolves howling at night, her mother brushing her hair and Old Nan telling stories of the Long Night. She missed Robb’s easy laugh and how Jon Snow’s somberness turned to mischief when it was only her siblings and herself. Before her septa had come, Robb and Jon would tell her frightening tales of The Others and then would let her sneak into their rooms when she had nightmares. She missed Jory, Ser Rodrik, Hodor, and Jeyne Poole who’d whisper in her ear about the boys they knew, though Sansa knew that Jeyne thought Robb the most handsome man alive. She wondered where Jeyne was now.

 

Her father’s departure had forced her to find the strength to survive alone. She’d been glad to hear that Robb had risen up against Joffrey until she realized it might put her father in danger. She thought it unlikely they would kill her as long as her family held Ser Jaime, but the queen had looked at her like she wanted to wring the life out of Sansa before forcing her to write another raven to Robb, insisting he release Ser Jaime and come to King’s Landing to bend the knee.

 

Now Joffrey looked like he might strike her himself, but she met his gaze with a steely one of her own. He stepped back a few feet and swallowed. “Ser Meryn, it appears Lady Sansa has not learned her place after all.” When the knight moved toward her, Joffrey commanded, “Don’t hit her face. I like her pretty.”

 

It was over in a matter of moments, but the blows to her stomach left her breathless. After Joffrey departed, Ser Meryn in his wake, Sansa took a moment to compose herself. Sandor Clegane reached out his hand and helped her to stand. He stared at her for a moment as she straightened the winkles out of her gown. “It would be easier for you if you did not disagree with him. Say what he wishes you to say like a good little bird and he might not hurt you as often.”

 

“And would you, Ser? If he threatened to murder your father and mother and brothers, would you say nothing?” she asked quietly. She _knew_ it would be easier for her. She wasn’t as stupid as they all seemed to think she was.

 

“If you had a brother like mine, you wouldn’t ask that,” the hound muttered darkly. “Where is your brother now? _He’s_ winning glory for himself, while you take the beatings from knights.”

 

“Ser Meryn is no true knight,” Sansa retorted, descending the stairs. “And if Robb is responsible for these battles, he wouldn’t do it for glory. The king stripped my father of everything.”

 

The Hound grasped her arm and stopped her in her tracks. “Yet your father remained alive. Your brother just killed him. Your noble brother might as well have cut his head off himself.”

 

She stared at his hand until he released her. Stepping away, she said, “Wolves can withstand the winter better than lions can.” Her eyes met his briefly before she turned away, saying, “And winter is coming.”

 

Sandor snorted a chuckle. “If you think your snows are enough to defeat Tywin Lannister, then you’re more naïve than I believed.”

 

He walked beside her silently, stealing glances at her. Sansa was uneasy under his gaze but she knew somehow that he wouldn’t hurt her. She’d seen the way he averted his eyes when Ser Meryn hit her. When she caught him staring at her again, she turned. “Ser, it’s impolite to stare.”

 

“Bugger your ‘sers’. I’m no knight,” Sandor snarled. “And I need no lessons in manners from you.”

 

“Perhaps you do. If you do not wish me to call you Ser, what shall I call you? Shall I call you cruel names like the King does, or would you prefer I call you by your given name?” ~~~~

“Little Bird, anything is better than Ser.”

 

Sansa shook her head. “While you don’t mind being referred to as an animal, I’m a _lady._ If you wish, you may call me Lady Sansa.”

 

“I’ll call you whatever I bleeding like,” Sandor laughed. “For a child, you have the arrogance of a queen already. You’ll do well at it, I suppose.”

 

“So do you think _all_ queens are arrogant or just the ones you’ve known?” Sansa tilted her head to the side.

 

Sandor opened his mouth to respond but ended up growling instead. She knew that she was aggravating him, but he had been so rude to her and had the manners of a particularly recalcitrant horse. Perhaps he’d eventually stop speaking to her: she’d much prefer him silent to insulting her. She couldn’t find it in herself, however, to treat him as Joffrey did and call him ‘dog’ or ‘The Hound’. Her mother and Septa Mordane had taught her too well to allow that and besides that, he was one of the few Kingsguard that she suspected did not approve of Joffrey’s abuse.

 

“I wish to go to the Godswood,” she said and started down the hallway that led outside. Seeing him move to follow her, she stated “ _Alone_. I wish to go to the Godswood _alone_.”

 

Sandor shot her a look of frustration but relented. “Do not be long, Little Bird. I should have already returned you to your cage.”

 

Breathing a sigh of relief at being alone at last, Sansa walked into the Godswood. Though King’s Landing was still warm, the smothering heat had finally abated in favor of cool breezes in the early hours of the evening.  She wished there was a weirwood tree but the old gods didn’t belong here anymore than Sansa did. Sitting at the base of the heart tree, she raised her face to soak in the sun. The sun burned hotter here than in the north and she could not remain long or her cheeks pinked. After a few moments, she felt someone’s eyes on her. Opening her eyes, she found a servant standing before her.

 

“Forgive me, my lady,” the woman said with a quick nod of her head. “I did not mean to intrude. Normally, there is no one here.” She turned as if to go.

 

“Do you follow the old gods? You must be from the north as well,” Sansa called out and the woman stopped. Sansa noticed that she didn’t act much like a servant. Her head was held too high, not very subservient at all.

 

“Yes, my lady,” she answered. “Though this is not the safest place to admit that. My father was from the Riverlands, but was not a pious man, and my mother was from Hornwood and kept the old gods.” Walking closer to the tree, the woman continued, “I find more comfort in the old gods than the new.”

 

“They both have their merits,” Sansa replied. “I follow both myself but the Sept here is rather crowded and the Godswood is mostly empty. It’s peaceful.” After a moment of studying her, she asked, “What is your name?”

 

“My name is Lya, Lady Sansa,” she answered.

 

Sansa felt a strange sensation at the way Lya studied her and a vague sense of recollection. “I do not recall giving you my name, Lya.”

 

“My lady, you’re betrothed to the king and your father was the Hand of the King,” Lya replied with a slight smile. “Of course I know your name. I did not mean to be so presumptuous as to call you by it, however, so if I offended you, I beg your pardon.”

 

Sansa studied the woman for a long moment before shaking her head. “You didn’t offend me. It’s just strange to hear a familiar accent again. It’s also strange that you sound like a northerner if you were raised in the Riverlands.”

 

Lya smiled briefly and nodded. “It is strange indeed.” She offered no further explanation. Sansa tried to place her face but could not. She was tall for a woman, perhaps as tall as Robb, thin with long dark hair that she wore in a loose braid. She seemed as out of place as Sansa. Feeling other eyes on her, Sansa turned to find Sandor Clegane approaching.

 

“I must go,” she said, rising. She wondered why she was explaining her departure to a servant. “Perhaps I will see you again, Lya.”

 

Lya inclined her head slowly as Sansa rose to her feet. “I’m sure you will, Lady Sansa. I pray that you remain safe in these troubled times.”

 

As Sansa reached Sandor, she glanced back at the woman called Lya and started. She had to keep her mouth from dropping open in surprise: she _had_ seen her before. Lya had been at Winterfell for a Fall Harvest, Sansa remembered clearly now. Jory and she had battled in the yard. Theon and Robb had teased Jory that he’d been beaten by a woman, but Sansa’s father had told Jory not to worry. He hadn’t been beaten by a mere woman; he’d been beaten by a bear.

 

~*~

 

Jon spent the rest of the day with Ser Loras until the time came to break camp. Robb found him as he stood outside his tent, preparing his horse for the journey to Riverrun. They stood in silence for a few moments before Jon glanced at his brother.

 

“I suppose you’re going to tell me that I should not have questioned your orders or decision,” Jon said.

 

Robb couldn’t resist a smile. “Yet you’re not apologizing for any wrongdoing.”

 

“Was I wrong? Perhaps, but if you wanted someone to follow you blindly, you should have left me at the Wall,” Jon said resolutely. “You wanted someone you could trust and you have that, but that doesn’t mean I won’t question you.”

 

“Will you always follow me whether or not you believe it’s the right path?”

 

There was a rebellious spark in Jon’s eyes, but he forced himself not to react in anger. He nodded as he met Robb’s gaze. “If I see that you are walking a dangerous road, I will attempt to stop you and I will give you counsel for what that is worth. I will not allow you to walk blindly into fire, Robb. You’re responsible for the North, you’re our leader. I’m here to make sure you don’t get us all killed, especially yourself.”

 

“I suppose it’s good that you’re here then,” Robb said with a grin.

 

They were ready to depart within the hour. The moon was full and bright, giving them ample light to travel without torches.  When they reached the vantage point west of Riverrun, Robb’s host stopped and waited like silent shadows, out of sight of the Lannister host. Ser Brynden rode further on to rendezvous with Renly Baratheon and Randyll Tarly’s host north of Tumblestone. Mace Tyrell had men to the east of Riverrun as well. The castle was well and truly surrounded, the lions outnumbered.

 

Jon hated waiting, but knew that all pieces had to be in place before the attack could commence. The Lannister camp was mostly silent, the men no doubt catching what sleep they could, but the Northmen watched for scouts. When they saw the tents begin to be set aflame to the north of them, Robb kicked his heels into his horse and cried _Winterfell!,_ charging towards the western camps with Grey Wind at one side and Jon and Ghost at the other. The Lannister camps had clearly been in the process of building a shield wall to withstand attacks, but the defense crumbled. When Riverrun joined the fray, the Lannisters were trapped. Men within the keep fired rocks from their catapults and a man under the banner of House Blackwood led a sortie out of the castle itself. The Lannisters had nowhere to go except into the wall of wolves.

 

Fires burned to the left and right of Jon as the Umbers set the siege towers aflame. Ghost swerved in front of his horse, forcing them away as one of the towers began to collapse in their path. Jon rode toward the prisoners the Lannisters held, knowing them likely to be the captured Riverlords. As he reached them, Jon saw that a man he assumed was Ser Edmure Tully had been freed. As soon as he saw the direwolf on Jon’s shield, Edmure smiled tiredly. “Cat has sent the north for us.”

 

Jon had separated from Robb in battle, but he saw that his brother had remained well-guarded. He helped Blackwood’s men free the rest of the prisoners, defending them as they withdrew into the castle. Once they were out of the open, he instructed Ghost to lead him back to Robb and found his brother cutting a swath through the lions on foot. Jon jumped down from his own mount and fought back to back with Robb, as they had done so many times before in Winterfell. He could see Ser Loras close by as well.

 

Grey Wind continued to attack the horses of the Lannister forces, the screams of the wounded and dying animals coupled with the direwolf’s growls and the sound of him tearing into flesh sending shivers up Jon’s spine. Ghost had a different approach, running at a horse’s legs and causing it to rear up and unseat it’s rider. If the rider attempted to fight, Ghost would hold him at bay until someone, usually Jon as some were still afraid of the direwolves, put an end to them. Most of them surrendered upon seeing the massive beast. Others perished from the fall.

 

The Lannister army was in total disarray, some attempting to flee while others had not yet realized that their cause was hopeless. Jon cut down any who did not beg mercy. It was hard difficult to distinguish riverlander from lion, but if Jon stopped to wonder, he’d have someone attempting to drive a sword through his gut.

 

When it was over, Jon could barely see through the blood running down his face, some injury that he couldn’t remember obtaining. Robb was not unscathed either, but neither carried serious wounds. Most of the blood that covered Jon was not his own. It glistened on his armor and he could not help thinking that it was Lannister red.

 

The prisoners were being rounded up as Jon sank to the ground, his eyes sweeping over the seemingly endless sea of bodies surrounding them. Ghost nosed his hand and Jon noticed his white fur was matted with wet red mud and fresh blood. “You are a warrior, my friend,” he said quietly with a small smile, though he’d noticed that Ghost was the less vicious of the two brothers. Robb had had to call Grey Wind off some of his prey.

 

“Are you injured? _Again_?” Jon turned to see Ser Loras coming up behind him.

 

“Of course,” Jon laughed darkly, wiping at the blood on his face. “Have you known me not to be injured in battle? How is it that you managed to stay so clean?”

 

“I don’t roll around in the mud for one thing,” Loras said, raising a brow. At the sound of hooves, he turned and a wide smile graced his face. Jon followed his gaze to find a young man with dark hair riding toward them. The tallest woman Jon had ever seen was to his right and another man to his left. “ _Ren…Your Grace_.” Loras’ words confirmed the man’s identity.

 

Jon quickly wiped his gloved hand across his face as he rose. He turned to find Robb walking toward them. The brothers both sank to one knee when Renly dismounted, greeting Ser Loras with affection. “I’m glad to see you uninjured, Ser Loras. It would not do for the Lord Commander of my Rainbow Guard to return to me wounded.”

 

“Your Grace, may I present Lord Robb of House Stark and his brother Jon Snow,” Ser Loras said. “It was they who caught the Kingslayer in the Whispering Wood, them and their direwolves.”

 

“Please rise,” Renly commanded. “I’ve heard much and more about the battle as well as your infamous direwolves. I had thought they japed when they told me you actually rode into battle with a direwolf at your side but now I see the truth of it. I’m indebted to you and yours for your assistance in securing the Kingslayer.”

 

“It’s the very least we could do to honor Your Grace for your aid in liberating Riverrun and rescuing our father and sister,” Robb replied. “Forgive me, but have you had word about our family?”

 

“Things have grown more complicated in King’s Landing but I assure you that Lady Sansa is alive. We will speak more on that later,” Renly explained. “But I received this raven this afternoon.” Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a bit of parchment and handed it to Robb.

 

Jon hastily grabbed a torch from one of the men holding it so that he and Robb could both read the short message.

_My sons,_

_We’re coming home._

_Father_

Jon turned to Robb with a huge smile. “That’s Arya’s handwriting! I’d recognize her scrawl anywhere. _Father_ has Arya!” The two brothers embraced tightly, ignoring everyone else for a few moments.

 

“That explains much,” Renly said with a laugh. “I’d wondered why Lord Stark’s writing was similar to that of a child. I worried he’d suffered some injury.” Grasping Ser Loras’ shoulder, he said, “Come, let’s gather up our lords and see if we can find our way into Riverrun for some ale.”

 

~*~

 

“Gendry, you keep lowering your arm too soon and your wrist is angled incorrectly. Your sword is not a hammer,” Ned told Gendry as he watched the lad spar with a young Winterfell man named Thom. “If he hits your blade with his full strength, he could easily snap your wrist.” Ser Rodrick walked over to the two and repositioned the sword in Gendry’s hand, explaining the difference in the grips he needed to have depending on style of attack and chosen weapon.

 

“I can fight better than him,” Arya grumbled angrily. “Why won’t you let _me_ practice?”

 

Ned glanced down at her face and saw the frown and wrinkled brow. “Perhaps if you’d obeyed Yoren about those prisoners, you’d be allowed, but until you learn to do as you’re bid, you will sit here and _watch_.” He had already lectured her about the riskiness of her actions the night before but when she attempted to justify her behavior rather than apologizing, he knew he’d have to punish her somehow. Since she cared most about swordplay, forcing her to watch Gendry instead of practicing herself seemed to be a suitable punishment.

 

They had ridden through the night and Ned sat resting his leg on a pile of furs. He couldn’t stand to be confined to a wagon so he’d ridden the horse of one of the Gold Cloaks. Now his leg throbbed through the filthy cast. Riding a borrowed horse, wearing borrowed clothing with a foreign sword strapped to his side was more uncomfortable than he’d imagined. He’d grown too set in his ways since the Greyjoy Rebellion, accustomed to the luxuries of Winterfell. He ached to return north, to sit in the Godswood and watch Rickon running through the yard, to see Bran’s sweet smile and hold him once more now that he was awake. What words of comfort would Ned give his son about his broken body and his shattered dreams of knighthood?

 

“I didn’t _mean_ to disobey,” Arya said quietly. “The polite one asked me for water. It seemed cruel to deprive him of something to drink when everyone else had both food and ale. That’s when the other one began to threaten me.”

 

Ned studied her for a moment. “They’re killers, Arya. We’re not in Winterfell where people will protect you. You remember what happened in King’s Landing. We’re in as much danger now as we were then. You will remain close to me, Ser Rodrik, or Jacks at all times.”

 

Arya nodded silently, watching Gendry with envy. Finally she turned to Ned. “Gendry said he’s King Robert’s bastard. Is that why the Gold Cloaks came to arrest him?”

 

“Aye.”

 

“He asked me what I knew about his father. I told him what I could but I didn’t tell him about King Robert letting the queen kill Lady,” she continued. “I didn’t want him to hear something bad about his father from me. But he asked a lot about his half-brothers and half-sister. I didn’t know what to tell him about Joffrey. I wouldn’t want people to tell me bad things about my brothers and sister. Even if I’m mad at Sansa, I don’t want to hear anyone else say anything bad about her.” After a long pause, she added, “I’m not mad at her anymore. Sansa, that is. I think of her sometimes, all alone while I have you and Jon and Robb have each other, and wish that I hadn’t left her. I don’t think Joffrey will treat her kindly. I don’t want him to be cruel to her.”

 

Ned put his arm around his young daughter and pulled her close. “You did well not speaking ill of Robert or Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella.” He couldn’t tell his daughter that the children weren’t related to Gendry at all. She was too young to understand the incestuous relationship between Jaime and his sister that has led to their current situation. “I hope that Gendry finds the family he wants with Renly, although I fear others might not speak so kindly to him about his father. And I’m very glad to hear you’re not angry with Sansa anymore. Hopefully, you can tell her yourself very soon.”

 

“Father, what’s going to happen now? Will you go home to Winterfell or stay with Robb and Jon for the war?”

 

Wearily Ned sighed. “I don’t know. Your brother is Lord of Winterfell, so I imagine I’ll do what he commands me to do.”

 

“Robb could _command_ you?” Arya exclaimed, her eyes wide.  “But your lands and title were stripped by Joffrey who I’ve heard the others say is a false king. He sent you to the Night’s Watch but you’re not going. Why are you allowing him to take away your title and lands?”

 

“Joffrey stripped me of those titles and my lands, but he gave them to Robb. I will not deny your brother what he’s earned after he has led men into battle. And it was my folly that put our family in jeopardy. While I was in a black cells, Robb arranged my rescue, he is attempting to rescue your sister, and he led an army south to help us as well as your mother’s family. He has earned his place as the North’s leader,” Ned explained.

 

“No one blames you, Father,” Arya said looking at him with eyes so like his own. “At least I don’t and I don’t think Robb, Jon, Sansa or Bran would either. Rickon is too young to understand and probably just wants you and Mother to come home.”

 

Before Ned could answer, he suddenly felt ill at ease. Glancing around, he saw the two men he’d set as guards watching to the northeast tense. When one of them turned to run back to the camp, Ned called out, “Ser Rodrik, Smalljon!” Turning to his daughter, he commanded, “Help me to my feet Arya.” Gendry rushed over to help Arya get Ned back on his feet. He bit back the pain he felt. “Gendry, take Arya to Jacks and the two of you keep out of sight.”

 

“What is it, Father?” Arya cried out as Gendry grabbed her arm.

 

Ned could see the banners of the men pressing down upon them all too quickly. “The lions have come. No matter what happens, Gendry, do not let her out of your sight.” He grabbed the lad’s arm, forcing him to look at Ned’s face. “Promise me you will keep her hidden. And remember what you’ve learned with that sword if need be.”

 

“Yes, milord,” Gendry said, swallowing hard as he glanced at the men and horses pouring down the hill, easily outnumbering the Northmen.

 

 _I won’t go down without a fight. I will not allow them to take my daughter from me or prevent me from taking her home to her mother. I will see my sons again and kiss my wife._ For the first time since he’d been seized in the throne room by Littlefinger, the desire for justice and vengeance burned in his belly rather than the pain of his mistakes.

 

 _When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die,_ Cersei Lannister had said. Ned would play their game then. He’d learned he didn’t have the option of refusing. His sons had already bloodied their swords and drawn Lannister blood. Injured or not, Ned was ready to join their fight at last.

 

With a rush of adrenaline, the quiet wolf joined the mating call of the North. _“Winterfell!”_

~*~

 

Daenerys watched as Ser Jorah and Jhogo dragged the old man before her. “He’s from Westeros, likely one of the Usurper’s assassins,” the old knight said.

 

“I’m not an assassin,” the man ground out. “I’ve come to find the rightful Targaryen heir to the Iron Throne.” He turned to Daenerys and, after a moment of observing her, dropped to one knee. “I see that I have found her. If they had not taken my sword, I’d offer it to you now, Your Grace.”

 

“Up,” Daenerys commanded and the man straightened. “Who are you?”

 

“I am a man who has made many mistakes and I have come to atone for them now, my queen. I once served the Usurper, I admit. I served him until I watched him die. But I’ve seen the error of my ways. I wish to help you return to the Seven Kingdoms and rule as your brother Rhaegar should have.”

 

“You did not answer my question,” Dany observed. “I would have your name or I will have your head.”

 

“Ser Barristan Selmy.” She saw the anger flare up in Ser Jorah’s face. “I was knighted by your father at six and ten and named to his Kingsguard at three and twenty. I rescued His Grace from Duskendale. I fought by your brother’s side at the Trident, but I was wounded before he was cut down.”

 

“Then you became Lord Commander of the Kingsguard for the Usurper,” Ser Jorah ground out. “Khaleesi, he’s a loyal Baratheon supporter.”

 

“As were _you_ during the Greyjoy Rebellion, yet here you stand _,_ Ser Jorah,” Ser Barristan replied coolly. “My king was murdered, his heir cut down, and his heir’s wife and children slaughtered. We had lost the war. I was given the choice: serve King Robert or die.”

 

“And you chose to serve the Usurper,” Dany said slowly, her eyes not leaving his. “You were the Lord Commander to the man that murdered my father, the sworn brother of the Kingslayer Jaime Lannister, as well, were you not?” 

 

“I did not wish to be, Your Grace. I protested that Ser Jaime shouldn’t be allowed to remain in the Kingsguard, but I did not know then how much the king needed the Lannisters to reign: enough that Robert would marry Cersei Lannnister and allow Ser Jaime to retain his white cloak. Perhaps if he had listened to me, he would not be dead now,” Ser Barristan replied.

 

“Did the Kingslayer slay another king? I had not heard,” she said with a wry smile. “I will have to find the proper attire for mourning the monster from my nightmares.”

 

Ser Barristan swallowed roughly. “No, Your Grace. It was a boar that struck the final blow, but Cersei Lannister made certain it happened by drugging his wine. The king loved his wine more than he loved his queen. She killed him to seat her son on the throne, the son sired by her brother.”

 

Daenerys was quiet for a moment. Her heart had seemed to come to a stand-still when she heard that Robert was finally dead, but her curiosity at him being murdered by his queen made her eager to hear the rest of the tale. When Ser Jorah stepped towards her, she held up her hand to stop him. She knew his counsel would be not to trust this man, and she wouldn’t. But she wanted to hear his tale nonetheless. “Irri, pour us some wine. I wish to toast the death of the Usurper and then I would hear the tale of what has led Ser Barristan to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _There are a few scattered lines within the whole fic that are from the show or the books. (it tends to happen without noticing lol) Off the top of my head I know that 'I like her pretty' and 'Someone must have lied' in this chapter is from the show._


	6. Chapter 5

 

 

 

 

 

 

A/N So sorry for the long delay between chapters. It was a busy week then my muse wandered off and when she returned, my beta was swamped! Thanks to my fabulous beta, [Auria](../../../users/Auria).

__Thanks again for all the reviews. Hope you continue to enjoy the fic :)_ _

* * *

 

Hunger gnawed at his stomach and Robb realized he’d had nothing to eat prior to the battle last night. It was midday, and though he’d bathed and changed clothes, he still had yet to sleep. Perhaps food would help him remain awake. King Renly had insisted on a council meeting after the battle and it had lasted until nearly dawn. The morning had been spent organizing the aftermath of the battle with his bannermen: clearing the field, assessing the dead and wounded, and various other grueling tasks. Jon had helped gather the wounded and taken them into the castle for care, then Robb had seen him last disappearing into the Godswood.  Walking through the castle corridor, Robb heard a chorus of shrieks behind him, turning to find that Grey Wind stood before a few ladies, clearly preventing them from passing.

  
“Grey Wind, to me,” he said quickly. When the direwolf obeyed, he rushed to apologize. “You must forgive me, my ladies. He won’t hurt anyone unless they intend to harm me, but I fear the battles have left him rather unsettled. I was returning him to the yard.”

 

“You must be Lord Stark,” the lady in the center of the group said. She was watching Grey Wind with curiosity rather than fear. “Would your direwolf allow me to come closer?”

 

“Your Grace, I don’t believe that’s wise…” one of the other women blurted out.

 

Realizing who she was, Robb quickly bowed to the queen, apologizing again. “Forgive me, I did not know you had arrived, Your Grace. I won’t let him harm you. You have my word.”

 

Turning back to the other ladies, she smiled, saying, “I have heard that the word of a Stark is worth more than the gold in Casterly Rock.” She approached Grey Wind steadily, her small hand outstretched. The direwolf eyed her for a moment before bending his head to sniff at her delicate fingers. The queen smiled. “My brother Willas says if an animal senses fear from you, he will react as if threatened.” Coming to stand beside Grey Wind, she dug her gloved fingers into his fur, scratching the scruff of his neck.

 

Robb watched with admiration and no small amount of bewilderment. While Grey Wind wasn’t threatening to people who knew him, he had never seen the direwolf act so tame towards a complete stranger. Something about Margaery caused the wolf to calm. Before Robb knew it, she had crouched down to Grey Wind’s eye-level, continuing to rub his neck. “He’s a beautiful animal, so powerful and noble. And I heard he is quite the hero in battle.”

 

The other two women remained transfixed, obviously horrified that Margaery was so intent on petting the beast. The queen glanced up at Robb and said, “Forgive me, Lord Stark, I’ve been rather remiss. I’m Margaery of House Tyrell.” She laughed lightly. “I suppose its Margaery of House _Baratheon_ now. A month of marriage has not broken the habit of thinking of myself a Tyrell.”

 

“No, Your Grace, you weren’t remiss at all.” He smiled at her, completely intrigued by the queen. “I imagine all ladies take time to adjust to the change in name.” Robb was struck by how unassuming she was. As fond as he was of Ser Loras, no one could deny the knight’s arrogance. His sister was nothing like him in that regard and Robb couldn’t help but stare at her. She was more than lovely, she was warm and kind. He was uncomfortably aware that she was studying him as intently as he was her, her eyes shrewd. Even his wolf seemed impressed with her. “I’ve never seen Grey Wind act so passively before.”

 

“He’s rather a large pup, but a pup nonetheless,” she teased, rubbing Grey Wind affectionately. “Loras has told me so much about you and your brother. I feel as if I know you already, Lord Stark.”

 

“Please, call me Robb, Your Grace. My father is still Lord Stark to me. I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. Ser Loras didn’t tell me much about you other than your beauty and grace. His words did not do you justice, my queen.”

 

Robb flushed when she looked into his eyes and he reminded himself that he was a man grown and, therefore, he must learn to speak to a woman without blushing, but the queen was more than just a woman, she was a queen, a _beautiful_ queen, and another man’s wife. Her ladies were both pretty as well. They gazed him openly with looks of appreciation. He’d seen the look before. Robb wasn’t blind to the fact that he was not unappealing to look at. As his father’s heir, he’d been the subject of much interest from ladies seeking to win his affection and favor for their Houses. The lords in the north had often brought their daughters to Winterfell, and each time his father had insisted that Robb spend some time with them to see if there was any interest, but Robb had been young and indifferent to thoughts of marriage. His thoughts had been on crossing swords with Jon and Theon, far from the girls he was meant to be entertaining. Calling the banners had offered him no respite: Lord Cerwyn had brought his daughter with him, ostensibly to assist him. Theon had japed that she was supposed to seduce him into her bed.

 

The only woman that Robb had ever felt any strong attraction for had been Dacey Mormont, but Theon had warned him off courting her. She was older and not known to set men aside gently. Usually if a man failed to win her attention or offended her, it ended with blood spilt. Robb hadn’t been willing to risk it. As a result, he had little experience with women other than those in his household. He found himself at a loss when it came to the queen or her ladies.

 

“I’m fairly certain that a man sees his sister quite differently than other men do. Loras is no exception,” she replied mischievously as she rose to her feet. “Perhaps you could assist me in finding my way around. We intended to see our wounded men, but I fear we’ve lost our way.”

 

“I can show you the way myself if it pleases you. There were many wounded, so they were separated to make it easier for their commanders to find their own men. The men from Highgarden and the Stormlands are on the second level and the Northmen on this level,” Robb explained as she walked beside him. “I will take you to the second level.”

  
“I understood that you and your Northmen had sworn fealty to His Grace. Am I mistaken?”

 

“No, Your Grace. We remain his loyal subjects,” Robb replied, wrinkling his brow in concern, wondering if he had said something to indicate that they hadn’t.

  
“Then all of the wounded would be my husband’s men, correct?” she asked. Robb nodded and she took his arm, gracing him with a smile. “Then I wish to see them all. A man takes courage from seeing his commander before a battle. It makes sense to me that he would also take comfort in seeing his queen in the aftermath. Perhaps you could have a steward take me to visit the other men after I visit your… _our_ Northmen.”

 

Robb found himself keenly aware of the warmth of her hand on his flesh, despite the thickness of his doublet. He reminded himself that she was his queen, Renly’s _wife_ , but his thoughts remained on the small hand nestled in the crook of his arm. Margaery captivated him, leaving Robb feeling like a besotted fool.

  

x-x-x

 

Jon and Robb arrived at the feast in black breeches and their finest doublets, emblazed with the Stark direwolf. Jon was grateful to have escaped his blood-soaked clothes for a warm bath. He had spent a good part of the morning trying to remove blood from his armor before Robb’s squire had offered to finish the task. Jon hadn’t felt he needed a squire when Robb had offered him one, but now he saw the benefits. Ghost and Grey Wind had also required a good scrubbing, which Jon had seen to himself while Robb had been in council.

 

Renly insisted that both he and Robb join him at the head table. His queen was to his left and Ser Loras, his father Lord Mace Tyrell, and brother Ser Garlan Tyrell sat beside her. Surprisingly, Renly sat Robb to his right and Jon beside him. Jon was not used to being treated as anything but a bastard and outcast outside of Winterfell, and even there he would sometimes be placed elsewhere during feasts.

 

“May I present my wife, Margaery of House Tyrell,” Renly said to Jon. “I believe that Robb has already made her acquaintance.”

 

“It is an honor,” Jon said, bowing his head to her. “Your brother has told me much about you, Your Grace.”

 

Margaery laughed prettily. “I can only imagine what Loras has said of me. He still sees me as the little girl who shadowed our grandmother’s every step. I think he was surprised that I was suddenly of an age to marry. Surely you must understand. Your sister is not much younger than me and considered a great beauty already.”

 

“Sansa remains a little girl,” Robb protested, a horrified look on his face.

 

“I see it is the same with most brothers. In your eyes, she is a child and she always will be,” Margaery teased back before turning to Jon. “Perhaps you could allow me to meet your direwolf as well. I’ve heard he’s the quieter brother, much like his master.”

 

Jon blushed “It would be my pleasure,” he replied. “I fear his manners are not such that he can roam free within the halls as much as he’s used to. And the wolves tend to scare most people.”

 

“My sister has no fear, even when she should,” Loras replied with a mischievous grin at his sister. “Don’t let her convince you to find her a direwolf. She’s already mentioned that our brother Willas would enjoy one. I told her that I doubted that an animal that would prey on his precious hawks and hounds would be a good idea, but I don’t think she listened.”

 

“My dear Loras, I thought that when I became your queen, you would be forced to show respect,” Margaery said with a smirk. “At least in public.”

 

“You have my sincerest apologies, Your Grace,” Loras replied, bowing his head in his sister’s direction. Margaery sighed dramatically, waving him upright.

 

Jon couldn’t help but notice that Robb was stealing more than a few glances at the queen. She was pretty, Loras had not exaggerated about that, but Jon suspected that it was difficult to know her truly. She seemed well-versed in the games of court, mask firmly in place. Jon vastly preferred honesty to intrigue, however. He wondered if his brother had sense enough to know when she was serious and when she was playing with him.

 

Jon was uneasy amongst Renly’s court of southerners. They seemed to all say the right words but their smiles didn’t quite reach their eyes. He sat back and studied them all and wasn’t sure who he trusted less: the Stormlords, who hid their arrogance behind veiled sardonic comments, or the men of the Reach, who sneered at the simple leather and furs of their northern counterparts when they thought no one was looking. Perhaps he was being too suspicious, but other than Renly and the Tyrells, he found himself hard-pressed to feel any sense of loyalty from these men towards the Northmen. His eyes lingered on Randyll Tarly for a few moments, remembering what Sam had said about his father. Jon had trouble trusting his own life to any man who would threaten to kill his own blood.

 

Lady Stark walked in with her brother Ser Edmure and uncle Ser Brynden looking weary. Her gaze flickered to Jon’s place at Robb’s side at the high table, her eyes narrowing for a moment before she turned her attention to Renly. Jon almost felt comforted by the familiar distain. At least it was something he knew was real.

 

 “Your Grace, it is a pleasure to see you again,” Catelyn Stark said with a curtsy.

 

“Lady Stark, it is good to see you after so many years as well. May I present my wife, Margaery of House Tyrell,” Renly said before holding out his hand to her. “Please join us for food and wine. Your brother has provided us with a wonderful feast.”

 

“It’s an honor, Lady Stark. I’ve heard so much about the North today from your son. And your childhood home is beautiful,” Margaery said politely.

 

“You have my gratitude,” Catelyn said. “And to you as well, Your Grace, for your help in bringing my daughters and husband home.”

 

“Has your son told you the news of your younger daughter, Arya?”

 

“No, Your Grace. I just arrived and went immediately to see my father. Has there been more news?” Jon saw the worry in her eyes until Robb smiled, holding out the raven from their father.

 

Lady Stark read the message and he could see that she was holding back tears as she nodded. “This is wonderful news. I can sleep easier knowing Arya is with her father.”

 

Ser Brynden sat beside Jon, leaving the seats to his right open for his niece and her brother while subtly placing some distance between Jon and Lady Stark. The feast had many courses, so much food that Jon could not hope to eat it all. Most dishes featured the fish for which the Riverlands was famous, but the Tyrells had brought fresh vegetables and sweet fruit from the Reach, so there were courses of various vegetables with rich butter and other sauces, sliced peaches, and strawberries in thick cream. Many of the dishes were more delicate than the hearty Northern fare he was used to, but he did enjoy trying new things. He especially liked the food from the Reach. Jon was so full that he could barely manage three bites of the huge river trout stuffed with mushrooms and drizzled in thick cream sauce that made up the main course. He felt guilty eating so much when so many of the small folk in the Riverlands were starving due to the Lannisters burning their crops.

 

After the main course had been cleared away, Ser Brynden leaned over to Jon. “His Grace intends for me to knight both Robb and yourself for your role in capturing the Kingslayer.”

 

Jon was stunned. “Perhaps it would be fairer to knight Ghost and Grey Wind,” he replied. “Without them, we wouldn’t have stood a chance against Ser Jaime.”

 

“You shall not refuse His Grace. His wishes take precedence over false modesty,” Ser Brynden warned. “More importantly, there may come a time when your bother needs to send you as an emissary to other lords. They’ll respect a knight more than they would a bastard.”

 

Being a knight meant that Jon could leave the taint of bastardy behind, but he couldn’t help feeling that it was being offered too freely. “I will still be a bastard,” he replied. “No one will truly think of me as anything other than my father’s shame.”

 

The older man studied him for a few moments before he sighed deeply, shaking his head. “You’re as honorable and stubborn as your father, I’ll grant you that. Keep in mind, boy, that Lord Eddard did not fare well in King’s Landing because he didn’t know how to play the games of court. Modesty and humility are admirable qualities to have, but as with all things, you should have them in moderation. If you insist on playing the humble bastard brother of a lord, then you’ll find your place beside him questioned. How will you feel when someone questions your right to fight by his side? Or if he wishes to have you on his war council? A knight advising his lord is expected; a bastard, brother or not, less so. It is the way of the south.”

 

Jon took a sip of his wine and considered the knight’s words. If Renly wanted to knight him, he’d accept it, of course. And he’d swear the oaths to protect his lord and his king. He had been ready to swear the oath of the Night’s Watch not long ago. It seemed like he’d gone there with every intention of earning respect and perhaps winning some glory for himself and his father, but here it was being given so generously. It made him feel uneasy and unworthy.

 

Watching Renly closely, Jon noted that everything seemed like a game to him. Robb had become fast friends with the king and Jon couldn’t help but be reminded of their father’s friendship with Robert Baratheon. They had been opposites if ever Jon had seen some, but Robb was less severe and serious than their father and Renly was less outrageous than his brother. He also seemed to have less fondness for wine and women than had the late King Robert.

 

Suddenly, Jon knew he had to escape the room. He was not meant to be at this table. He was a bastard, not a knight or a lord, and there were both lords and knights sitting at lower tables than himself. Jon had never been set above others like this and he had never felt like more of an outsider. ~~~~

“Excuse me, Ser. I need some air after all of this food,” he said quietly to Ser Brynden. Robb was too enthralled in a discussion with Renly for Jon to interrupt.

 

Outside the front of the castle were the remnants of the battle that hadn’t been cleared during the day, including dead Lannister men and burnt out siege towers. Silent Sisters wandered here and there preparing the dead despite the darkness. Jon wandered the castle until he found a door that led to a stone portico overlooking the river. Sitting down on the edge of it, he let his feet overhang the rushing water. A slight breeze caused the surface to ripple and the moonlight turned them silver. Jon heard a noise behind him and swung around to see the woman that had ridden beside the king earlier. Jumping up, Jon said, “Excuse me, my lady, I didn’t see you when I first came outside.”

 

She blinked at him for a moment before answering. “No need for apologies, my lord. I should have said something to you, but you seemed deep in thought.”

 

“I’m not a lord,” Jon said with a smile. “I’m Jon Snow. I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced…”

 

“You’re Lord Stark’s son, so I just assumed…” she blushed awkwardly before continuing. “I’m Brienne of Tarth. I’m no lady. I’m just one of the Rainbow Guard.”

 

“I’m afraid I don’t know the proper term for knights who are women. The north doesn’t have many knights.”

 

“Pardon me for asking, but I thought I saw some women fighting with your men. I believe they were under the banner with the bear. Would that be the Mormonts of Bear Island?” she asked tentatively, though obviously curious.

 

Jon felt some of his discomfort slip away. Brienne was so awkward it was unlikely she was putting on a farce. He gestured to a stone bench and she sat down stiffly. He took a seat beside her. “Yes, those are the Mormonts; fierce and brave fighters they may be, but they aren’t knights. As I said, knighthood is rare in the North as we don’t follow the Faith of the Seven.”

 

Brienne nodded and the two lapsed into silence. Jon had the feeling that she was as comfortable in the crowded hall as he was. “My sister Arya would be very impressed by you, my…Brienne. She’s rather be a knight than a lady,” Jon said with a fond smile. “Perhaps you and she will meet.”

 

“I will stay with His Grace and I assume you’ll stay with your brother, but I don’t know that our paths are the same,” Brienne said.

 

“Nor do I,” Jon admitted. “I suppose I will go where the king sends me. I hope he’ll allow me to remain with Robb, but I don’t know anything for certain.”

 

They sat together for some time and Jon felt strangely at ease with her, with no need to force conversation. Eventually she rose and bade him farewell, saying quietly, “I should see if the king has further needs of me tonight. Good evening, Jon Snow.”

 

Rising himself, Jon bowed his head to her. “It was an honor, Brienne.” When she left, Jon returned to his seat and resumed his study of the river. The surface shimmered. ~~~~

x-x-x

 

Crouching over the boy, Ned’s leg seized with enough pain to make him bit his lip. He let it pass and reached down to close the boy’s empty eyes. He couldn’t have been more than two-and-ten, younger than Sansa and barely older than Arya. He shouldn’t have died so horribly. No child should have to.

 

The Lannisters had spared neither the young nor those without weapons. Lommy was no more a wolf than he was a man but it didn’t matter to the Lannisters, cowards that they were. They’d struck the weaker ones in Ned’s party rather than focusing their attack on the soldiers. They attempted to flee once the Northmen had the upper hand, no doubt intending to return with more men to wreak havoc on them. Ned had sent his men to chase them down. They had killed all but two that had begged mercy, who were now being questioned by the Smalljon. ~~~~

“Lord Stark?” Gendry called from behind him. Ned rose and walked stiffly to where Gendry stood, Arya’s arm in his hand. His daughter stared at the dead boy in silence. “During the fight, there was a fire, my lord.” He glanced at Arya as if he were waiting for her to speak. When she didn’t, he tugged her arm to get her attention.

 

“Arya?” Ned inquired, grasping her shoulder and turning her so that she faced him, not the dead boy behind him. “What is it?”

 

“They were burning, Father. Their wagon had caught fire. I didn’t let them out but…” She bit her lip and looked away. After a moment, she glared at Gendry. “I couldn’t just let them burn!” Before Ned could stop her, she stomped off in Jacks’ direction.

 

“What was that about?” he asked Gendry, rubbing his temples tiredly.

 

“My lord, I don’t wish to be the one to tell you. She said she’d do it but…” Gendry looked confused, no doubt feeling like speaking would betray Arya somehow, while remaining silent would betray Ned. ~~~~

“Don’t worry, lad. I suspect I will find out soon enough,” Ned said when he saw Yoren walking towards him with an irritated expression, Jacks close behind. Ayra followed him with her eyes before attempting to slink away, to hide most likely. “Arya!” Ned called out to his daughter. “Come here.”

 

“My lord, your daughter ran away from her guard and set the prisoners free when their wagon caught fire. One of them killed another recruit before two of them rode off with Lannister horses and weapons,” Yoren informed him grimly. “The third prisoner remains, but I don’t rightly know what to do with him. He could have run or taken your daughter hostage, but he didn’t. In fact, I think he might have protected her from the other two.”

 

Ned turned to Jacks. “I should have heard this from you.”

 

“My lord, this is the first I’ve heard of it, on my honor. I saw one of the Umber men wounded, so I went and dragged him back behind the bushes. When I returned, Lady Arya remained with Gendry, so I assumed she hadn’t left his side,” Jacks explained hastily, his brow wrinkled as he studied Gendry and Arya in confusion.

 

Ned grasped his daughter’s arm, jerking her round to face him. “Arya, is this true?” Hesitating a moment, she nodded. Ned’s jaw tensed. “What were you thinking? What if a Lannister man had seen you? Did you not see that they were killing unarmed boys just as quickly as they attacked us? How could you be so foolish?”

 

Arya shook her head at him. Her eyes showed a mix of confusion and regret. “I just gave them the ax. I didn’t set them free and I ran away before they could touch me. I didn’t know that one would kill someone or I wouldn’t have done it. Jaqen made sure they didn’t come after me. Should I have let them burn?”

 

Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. Arya’s honor wouldn’t allow her to watch a good man burn to death and she had apparently considered one of the prisoners, this Jaqen she mentioned, was worth saving. Her look gave him pause. He glanced up to see the man in question watching him. He tipped his head in a show of respect before joining some of the other recruits in burying the dead.

 

Taking his daughter aside, he said, “Arya, I know it seems like what you did was brave and honorable. But this is not a time for heroic acts by little girls. You could end up getting yourself or those who protect you, killed. I cannot watch you all the time. I trusted Jacks and Gendry to do so but how would you feel if these criminals had killed one of them instead of the recruit?”

 

Confusion and hurt flickered across her face before, she replied. “I’d feel terrible. And I _do_ feel bad that they killed the other boy, but Jaqen shouldn’t have to burn alive simply because he was in a cage with two bad men. If they had killed Lannister soldiers, would you be as angry?”

 

“Yes! Don’t you see? You keep putting _yourself_ in danger,” Ned exclaimed, frustrated. Arya had her own sense of justice and he admired her for it. But she was his little girl and he refused to allow her to run off and…he looked away, struck not for the first time by the fact that his daughter was becoming more like Lyanna each day. He wouldn’t allow her to become his sister, to die like his sister had, so young and defenseless. “You will obey me and remain with Jacks when I am not with you. If you do not, I swear to you Arya Stark, I will bind your hand to mine.”

 

Arya’s eyes widened at his sternness. Ned felt a brief pang of guilt, but all he could see in his mind’s eye were his sister’s eyes pleading with him as he held her and her life bled from her. Ned had wept like a child over her body until Howland Reed had pried her from his arms. He remembered nothing of what followed save burying his dead outside the Tower of Joy. Tower of Joy? _Tower of Death._

 

But this was not the Tower of Joy and Arya was _not_ Lyanna.

 

Rickard Stark had tried to tame his daughter. He’d tried to bend her to his will and she’d fought him every step of the way. Ned and his older brother Brandon had chased her many times through the Wolfswood after she’d ridden off in a fury because their father had denied her something or attempted to force her to pursue more ladylike endeavors. Lord Rickard had never understood that he would never be able to force his daughter to become something she was not. The more he pushed, the more determined she became. ~~~~

~~~~

That fateful night, when they had realized that she was not in Winterfell, Benjen had been the one to look for her. Brandon had still been in the Riverlands and Ned in the Vale, and so it had been left to Benjen to find their sister. Benjen had caught up with her, and the men she’d been with. He later confessed to Ned that though he had told their father nothing, Lyanna had not been forced. She had gone willingly, eagerly in fact, and had begged him to let her go and remain quiet about her actions. His guilt over his silence compelled Benjen to take the Black shortly thereafter.    

 

Ned had always suspected that Lyanna had gone with Rhaegar of her own free will. Brandon, however, ever hot-headed, had refused to listen, as had Robert when Ned had tried to explain. But Ned had known. No one could have forced his sister to leave. A war had started because his sister had rebelled against their father’s restrictions and followed her heart, and Aerys had ordered the older Starks murdered when they’d tried to reclaim her. Lyanna had begged Ned for his forgiveness for her part in Father and Brandon’s deaths, though he’d told her she was not to blame for the actions of a madman. She’d sobbed about the battles fought and Rhaeger’s children before weeping over her prince. They had never meant for any of this to happen. She had just wanted to be with the man she loved, away from the life she was being forced into.

 

Ned recognized that same spark of rebellion in Arya’s eyes. He’d seen it many times when Catelyn had attempted to force her to behave for her septa or spend time doing needlework rather than shadowing her brother’s footsteps.  Arya had taken a life in King’s Landing. She’d defended herself, taken her first life, and had successfully navigated an environment that a grown man would be hard-pressed to survive. She might be a little girl but he couldn’t force her to a lady anymore than Lord Rickard could force Lyanna. The more he tried, the further he’d push her away. He didn’t want to repeat his father’s mistakes.

 

With a sigh, he said quietly to her, “I will not bind you to me. But listen to me. You must stay close to Jacks and Gendry. Even the greatest warriors know when they need help. You are brave but you must understand. You are so _precious_ to me. I cannot lose you to your own foolishness or bravery. There is very little difference between the two. Do you understand?” He stroked her cheek. She always would be his child, no matter how quickly her circumstances had forced her to grow up. ~~~~

“I understand,” she agreed. “But I’m not a little girl anymore, Father. I haven’t been since King’s Landing.” Her eyes hardened when she looked at him and said, “I can’t go back to being helpless again. I can’t and I _won’t_.”

 

Before he could answer, she’d turned on her heel and walked away. She went straight to Gendry and Ned noted that at least she’d obeyed him about an escort. But her words haunted him as he continued to bury their dead and assemble his men again. Thanks to their Lannister prisoners, they learned that they’d be marching straight into Tywin Lannister’s main host if they remained on the path they were on.

 

As they mounted up to depart, he walked to Arya and ran his hand through her hair affectionately. “Arya, I know it’s always been hard for you to understand why you’re treated differently than your brothers. But right now, I’m not treating you any differently than I would have treated Robb at this age.  We’re not in Winterfell. We’re being hunted and are in horrible danger. I need to know that you’ll do what you can to remain safe and out of harm’s way.”

 

She hesitated only a moment before she hugged his waist. “I promise I will stay with Jacks or Gendry.”

 

Lifting her onto her horse, he patted her leg. “You’re a brave girl, but you need to remember that you’re still my daughter. Allow your father a few more years to hold onto his little one.” She gave him a big smile that tugged at his heart.

 

x-x-x

 

Daenerys lay back and watched Drogon and Rhaegal chase each other through the early evening skies.  She wondered how long it would be before they’d be large enough to ride. She was small and likely Drogon would be able to bear her weight soon enough, so she should begin to train him then. If not, he’d never allow her to ride him.

 

She thought to what Ser Barristan had told her of Westeros. She was glad she no longer had to worry about Robert Baratheon, but his brother Stannis had been the one who had taken Dragonstone to hold out against any chance of Viserys or herself returning there. He’d been the one sent to kill them, driving them out of the Targaryen’s seat and into exile. While she had her misgivings about the Starks, considering them the Usurper’s dogs as much as the Lannisters, Barristan insisted they were honorable. Was it true what he had said about Lyanna Stark, that her father and brother had been murdered by Daenerys’ own father? Or were those simply more lies to ruin the Targaryen name? She couldn’t be sure.

 

“Khalessi, you are troubled by what Ser Barristan has told you,” Ser Jorah said, coming to sit beside her.

 

“Is it true, Ser Jorah? Did my brother kidnap Lyanna Stark? Did my father murder Rickard and Brandon Stark unjustly, and start the rebellion that led to all that destruction and death?” Viserys’ version of the events had been completely different. He hesitated and she gave him a stern look. “Speak freely and speak the truth. I command it.”

 

“No one knows the truth about Lyanna Stark. Some say she ran away with Rhaegar, while others say he kidnapped her. All I know for certain is that he crowned Lyanna his Queen of Love and Beauty at Tourney at Harrenhal rather than his wife.”

 

“And did my father murder her brother and father for trying to get her back?”

 

“Brandon Stark rode into King’s Landing and demanded that Rhaegar come out and fight him. He was imprisoned for threatening the Crown Prince. Your father then sent for Lord Rickard to answer for his son’s treason. Lord Rickard demanded a trial by combat and King Aerys said that fire was the champion of the Targaryens. Rickard Stark was burned alive.”

 

Tears burned her eyes but she turned away, watching her dragons flying into the sunset. “They called him the Mad King.”

 

Ser Jorah gave no answer. But there was none to give. Viserys had lied to her about their father and the war. The Starks had reasons to hate her, yet Ser Barristan had insisted that Eddard Stark had attempted to prevent Robert from ordering her assassination. He’d told her that after the war, Lord Stark had argued with Robert Baratheon about Tywin Lannister’s murder of her brother’s wife and children. And now his son was offering an alliance if she came to Westeros. Could she ever trust the Starks? Could she trust Ser Barristan or was this another plot by the Usurper’s family to lure her back to Westeros to murder her? She wasn’t sure there was anyone in Westeros she could trust. Tomorrow she would buy her Unsullied to protect her, but tonight she would learn all she could about the Starks and other possible allies against the Baratheons and Lannisters in Westeros. When she returned to claim the Iron Throne, she’d see her enemies burn.

  
“Ser Jorah, I command you to tell me all that you know about the Starks and their part in the rebellion,” she said at last. “Leave nothing out, even if you think it will displease me.”

 


	7. Chapter 6

 

 

 

_A/N So sorry for the long delay between chapters. My muse wouldn't play nice with some of the characters. Thanks to my fabulous beta,[Auria](../../../users/Auria)._

__Thanks again for all the reviews. Hope you continue to enjoy the fic :)_ _

__

**Chapter 6**

 

The king poured Jon another cup of wine. “So are you ready to be knighted tomorrow, Jon?”

 

“Yes, Your Grace,” Jon replied, his head swimming from the amount of wine he’d consumed already. The king had insisted that he and Robb drink with him and Ser Loras, along with Ser Marq Piper, Ser Patrek Mallister, and Ser Edmure Tully, and Loras’ brother Ser Garlan Tyrell. Each time Jon emptied his cup, he found it filled to the brim again and someone was encouraging him to drink more. “I’ll be Ser Snow…I always thought I’d live and die as Jon Snow or just ‘the bastard’.”

 

“Let’s hope you don’t die before we can knight you. You do have a bad habit of getting injured,” Loras said with a laugh as he grasped Jon’s shoulder. Turning to Robb, he replied, “Your wolf has an admirer. My sister wants us to find a direwolf for my brother Willas now.”

 

“That’s all our brother needs. I don’t think he’d be amused.” Garlan laughed.

 

“Your brother needs a _wife_ ,” Renly replied. He studied Robb for a few moments before adding. “Perhaps your sister Sansa would be a suitable wife for Willas once she is free of Joffrey.”

 

“Sansa?” Robb blurted out, so far into his cups that he didn’t realize he was shouting at the king. Jon bit his lip to prevent himself from laughing at Robb’s look of utter indignation. His brother still held firm to the belief that it would be years before Sansa would marry. “She’s too young!” Renly reminded him that she was only a few years younger than Margaery, his queen.

 

“My sister could not be betrothed by Robb’s consent without my father or Lady Stark’s approval,” Jon said, in an attempt to rescue Robb, though mostly from himself. “But first we must help her escape King’s Landing.”

 

“We don’t have Willas’ consent to make a betrothal arrangement for him either. It would just be easier to send him a beautiful Stark direwolf rather than a _real_ direwolf.” Garlan exploded into laughter as Robb’s face turned red.

 

“Garlan, perhaps you shouldn’t tease Robb or speak of his sister that way. I remember you were the one who thought the idea of Margaery wed was ridiculous.” Loras raised an eyebrow. “And Lady Sansa is younger than her.”

 

“Your sister is betrothed to a monster. I’m simply suggesting a better alternative. I meant no disrespect, my lord,” Garlan said to Robb, looking quite contrite.

 

Jon had grown more used to the ways of the Tyrells and knew they frequently spoke without thinking so he wasn’t offended by Garlan. In fact he preferred the company of the Tyrell brothers to almost all of the knights and lords from the Stormlands and the Reach. Their arrogance was tempered with good humor and deep-seated kindness.

 

“What of you, Robb? Have you considered taking a wife now that you’re Lord of Winterfell? Perhaps Princess Arianne Martell to win Dorne to our cause,” Renly suggested, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve met her and I must say she’s really quite beautiful; very spirited and vocal though. Or do you have a woman in the north awaiting the Young Wolf’s swift return?”

 

“No,” Robb replied nervously. “I haven’t considered marriage yet, although you are not the first one to suggest Princess Arianne. I can’t imagine a Dornish princess would appreciate the cold of the north, and the Lord of Winterfell would never be allowed to live in Dorne with her.  Lord Frey wants me to marry his daughter Roslin. Theon suggested his sister. Lord Bracken has offered me two of his daughters. Ser Wendel has said that his father Lord Manderly has offered either one of his granddaughters. The Karstarks and Cerwyns also have daughters.”

 

“My, my, so many choices,” Ser Loras said with a grin. “Have you seen any of these charming ladies in person?”

 

“Only Lord Manderly’s granddaughters, but they were much younger at the time. Both are fair enough and the Manderlys are loyal bannermen. My mother thinks it’s wiser to marry for an alliance I don’t already have,” Robb replied thoughtfully before draining his cup. “I would marry Dacey Mormont if she’d have me. She’s beautiful and fierce, but…”

 

“Robb,” Jon said quietly, giving his brother a swift kick under the table. He doubted Robb would have admitted that had he been in full possession of his wits. His brother glared at him through blurry eyes and Jon shook his head to silence him. “I think perhaps I should help my brother to his chambers. Otherwise, neither of us will be fit to be knighted tomorrow.” Standing up, he put his hand on Robb’s elbow and practically lifted him up to stand.  “Good night, Your Grace, Sers.”

 

“Oh, it is late,” Ser Loras said with a look outside.  “We all should attempt to find our beds.”

 

“Or at least, _someone’s_ bed, preferably someone beautiful,” Edmure said with a grin.

 

Marq Piper snorted and said, “Like that has ever stopped you before, Edmure. The drunker you are, the prettier they become.”

 

Grey Wind and Ghost followed them down the hall. After seeing to it that Robb made it into his bed, Jon found his own. He stopped long enough to pull off his boots before he stretched out on the bed still dressed. Tomorrow he’d be knighted but for now, he didn’t think he could manage to kneel before anyone. He needed to be more wary of his hosts’ love of wine.

  
x-x-x

 

“Damn that Imp to all seven hells,” Dacey seethed as she came into the Godswood in a fury.

 

“What happened?” Daryn said, jumping to his feet.

 

“Sansa sought me out and asked me to come to the Godswood with her. As we were walking, the Imp saw us and stopped me, then started asking me dozens of questions. He was curious about my accent, he said. When I explained that my mother was from the north but had moved here years ago, he looked like he doubted my story.  Then he invited Sansa to his solar for a cup of wine. Luckily I don’t think he realize we were walking together. He stopped her and I was walking behind her when he addressed me,” Dacey replied with a sigh of frustration. “Sansa looked terrified. I don’t think the Imp would actually hurt her but he’s too clever for my liking. His friend, the sellsword, has been watching me for the last few days. I wish I could believe it’s because I’m a great beauty, but something tells me I’d be wrong if I did.”

 

Daryn was quiet for a few moments before he answered. “Let’s not borrow trouble or be paranoid if we don’t need to be. The sellsword is now in charge of the City Watch, so I report to him. He’s cautious by nature, but that doesn’t mean you’ve done anything to arouse his suspicions...or anything else.”

 

“With Tyrion Lannister acting as Hand, I fear it won’t be as easy to escape with Sansa as it was before. The queen was perfectly content to leave Sansa in the hands of her abomination of son but Lord Tyrion has taken a special interest in her. He knows that she’s the key to getting the Kingslayer back,” Dacey answered. “Did you have any luck with our new contact?”

 

“Yes. He got a message from Renly. It seems they found the other Stark girl with her father.”

 

Dacey smiled brightly. “That’s _wonderful_ news. But if the Lannisters find out, it’s going to put Lord Eddard at more risk. Do they know where he is, how close he is to Riverrun?”

 

“No. They were attacked by Lannister men a few days ago and changed course to avoid marching right into Tywin Lannister’s main host, but now Stannis is marching his forces through the Stormlands as well. We don’t know his intent, but it can’t be good. Lord Stark is going to have to find a way to travel between the two armies if he intends to reach Renly and Robb’s forces undetected, and they have no way of warning him. But I’m certain Lord Robb will send more men to find him.”

 

“Once Lord Stark is safe, Sansa will be their only hostage and they will keep an even closer eye on her. We need to hasten our plans to spirit her away from here. And if Stannis is marching towards King’s Landing, we’re _all_ in danger,” Dacey replied. “I will not fail Lord Robb and allow his sister to be caught up in a city under siege.”

 

x-x-x

 

“Lady Sansa, it is so good of you to join me,” Tyrion Lannister said, stepping aside to allow the girl to enter his solar. “Would you care for wine?”

 

“Thank you, my lord,” Sansa said, nervously.

 

“Please, sit,” Tyrion said, as his squire held out a chair for her. “Did you ever hear anything from your brother Bran? I left some saddle design instructions with him the last time I was at Winterfell and I’ve wondered how he fared with riding.”

 

“He wrote to my father, quite excited that he was able to ride now, so thank you for that kindness, my lord.” Sansa sat, folding her hands neatly in her lap and quietly watching the dwarf. She tried to project a confidence she did not feel. She had no idea what the Hand of the King would want with her but knowing the rest of his family, it couldn’t be out of kindness.  He really was an ugly thing, but his mismatched eyes weren’t as cold as his sister’s, or hold the malice of his nephew’s. She was grateful for that at least. She’d had no interactions with him during his stay in Winterfell, but she knew that Myrcella and Tommen were fond of him. _Yes, but aren’t they also fond of their mother? You can’t trust him._

 

“He’s a sweet child. What happened to him was unfortunate, but losing the use of his legs doesn’t prevent him from doing most things. Indeed, I’ve known many people with full use of their legs who've turned out to be quite useless, so there’s hope for him yet.” Sansa didn’t know what to say to that.

 

Tyrion handed her a glass of wine with a small smile and sat down across from her. Sansa sipped slowly while she waiting for him to speak. “My lady, as you surely understand, your brother Robb’s rebellion and your father’s escape have created many problems. I’m hoping that you could assist me in resolving them.” Tyrion Lannister’s words were soft, but his eyes were shrewd.

 

Sansa swallowed another sip before responding. “I haven’t spoken to my brother since I left Winterfell, save for the two ravens I was forc…asked to write by the Queen. And the last time I saw my father, he was in fetters bound for the Night’s Watch. I don’t see how I can help, my lord.”

 

“They hold my brother as a prisoner. As you’re our _guest…”_ Tyrion began.

 

“I’m certain that Robb considers Ser Jaime his _guest_ , as well,” Sansa interrupted, lifting her chin slightly.

 

The dwarf smiled in amusement as he played with the rim of his wine glass. “You’re a clever girl. I’m sure you can understand why I’d like to see this issue resolved so that everyone gets what they want with as little pain and suffering as possible.”

 

“Someone attempted to kill Bran twice and succeeding in crippling him. My father, one of the most honorable men in the Seven Kingdoms, has been labeled a traitor and stripped of all lands and titles. Your brother attacked him in the streets and broke his leg. Lannister guards murdered everyone in our household, including my septa and others who I’ve known since birth. My sister is lost, possibly dead. And my grandfather’s lands have been plundered, pillaged and burned,” Sansa replied with little emotion, shocked at her own daring. “I fear that there has been plenty of pain and suffering, and it seems to have fallen on my family rather than yours. I imagine I will not survive this war if anything happens to your brother and that is something I have accepted. But I am unclear what you wish me to do about it. From where I’m sitting, I’m a defenseless little girl.”

 

Tyrion was quiet, and his eyes were sympathetic before he schooled his features into something more ambivalent. “Lady Sansa, do you wish want to marry my nephew?”

 

The lie came so easily now. “I am loyal to my beloved…” she began, but he quickly held up his hand to silence her, shaking his head.

 

“I want you to be honest. No harm will come to you. You have my word.”

 

Sansa stared at her hands for a moment, willing back her tears and biting her lip to prevent herself from screaming out she’d rather do anything than marry Joffrey Baratheon. That he was vile and that she hated all of the Lannisters, including Tyrion himself. That his word meant nothing to her. But she held it all back.

 

After a moment, she glanced back at him calmly. “My father was honest and he lost everything but his head. Why don’t you tell me what it is that you wish for me to say, my lord?”

 

“I am not my sister, Sansa. I do not intend to hurt you. I wish to trade you for my brother. But if I were to do that, how could we convince the Northmen to lay down their arms, return home, and keep the king’s peace?”

 

“You cannot give my family back what it has lost,” Sansa answered softly. “And I do not know what it would take to satisfy them. But returning me to my family would be a start.”

 

“If I returned you without recompense, your family would take my brother’s head for attacking your father in the streets,” Tyrion replied. “There must be an exchange and an agreement. Unfortunately, an agreement is easier said than done. Your ever-so-honorable father and brother have already broken their word to us. The king and my sister are unlikely to trust them again.”

 

Sansa didn’t know what he wanted her to say. _And my father and Robb are honorable, more honorable than your family could ever be._ She had no power. Surely he knew that. Was he simply trying to torment her? She couldn’t let him, but she had to remember her courtesies. “That…is very unfortunate, my lord. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be of more assistance.”

 

“Oh, I think you are more capable than you know, my lady. But enough on that. If your father and brother were to send their men home, come to King’s Landing to swear fealty to Joffrey, then you could likely return home in a few years provided they remain loyal,” Tyrion said. “That would, of course, require us to break the betrothal arrangement between you and my nephew. I know that would disappoint both you and His Grace immensely.”

 

Sansa could have said much about what she thought of that suggestion. But she was not foolish enough to admit her true feelings.  She gave him a weak smile before taking another sip of her wine.

 

“I’d like to be your friend, Lady Sansa, if you’d let me. You’re an innocent in this… I’d like you to realize that you can come to me if you need anything, or if you think of a solution to our little problem. I’m sure your insight would prove most illuminating, and wisdom is often found from the mouths of babes. The gods only know it’s not found from the mouths of the Small Council. My father would be very grateful not to have to worry about the North while he deals with the Baratheon brothers.”

 

Sansa nodded, but remain quiet. She hoped that Lya could help her, somehow. She’d have to find a way to speak with her again. It was proving more difficult by the day, with both Lord Tyrion and Sandor Clegane taking such an active interest in her, and the queen and Joffrey never letting her wander far from their sights and cruel attentions.

 

“My lord, if you’ll excuse me, I must go to the Godswood. I can pray for a solution to our problem,” she said as sweetly as she could.  Tyrion gave her a searching look, but nodded and escorted her to the door. “My door is always open to you, my lady.” He kissed her hand gently.

 

Sansa hurried to the Godswood as quickly as her gown allowed her, hoping that Lya would still be there. She found herself alone, however, and sank to her knees before the heart tree. She remained there for a while, taking in the gentle rustling of the rich leaves and praying for her family, that they remain unharmed and as far away from Kings Landing as possible. And that she might live to see them again.

 

x-x-x

 

Arya spun in a quick circle, deflecting Gendry’s attack and causing him to lose his balance. Annoyed, he threw down his sword and glared at her.  “It’s getting dark. We can’t practice anymore.”

 

“It’s the only time we _can_ practice, stupid,” Arya argued. Her father insisted they ride for increasingly longer periods of time each day. If she was lucky, he’d only assign her and Gendry smaller tasks around the camp, allowing a little time to practice before nightfall. Her father and his men were more intent than ever to reach Riverrun. They’d already been attacked again by the Lannisters, and then by a group of bandits. The roads were growing more dangerous by the day.  

 

“I’m tired,” Gendry said, sitting down and taking a swig of water from his flagon. “Some of us don’t get the easy jobs.”

 

“It’s because I’m a girl,” Arya shrugged. “I can’t do much.”

 

“It’s because you’re a _highborn_ girl and you _can_ do more, they just don’t want to ask you. You, of course, never let them know that you’re capable of anything, because you’re willing to be ‘milady’ when it suits you,” Gendry grumbled.

 

Arya couldn’t help but smirk. It was true that if her father wasn’t the one assigning tasks, she was usually given very little to do, and nothing more difficult than carrying light supplies at that. Father was the only one willing to order her around. “Why should I offer to do more when others can do it better? That’s just stupid. Besides, I need to train and this way we get to practice when you’re not being sulking because I beat you.”

 

“I’m not sulking and you don’t always beat me,” Gendry shot back. “Are you a pain in the ass to everyone, or am I just lucky?”

 

“No one has ever called me a pain in the ass before,” Arya shrugged. “They’ve called me other things and I know that my sister thinks I’m…” Her voice trailed off and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

 

Gendry eyed her for a minute before he glanced back to where her father was speaking with Ser Rodrik and Yoren. “You talk about your brothers all the time, but you never mention your sister. Your father looks like he’s in pain when someone mentions her name. I thought that she was betrothed to the king. Wouldn’t that mean she’s safe?”

 

“You don’t know Joffrey and the queen,” Arya answered, more coldly than she’d intended. “He’s cruel and stupid. His mother is worse! She had Lady killed and she would have killed Nymeria if I hadn’t forced her to run away. Plus they ordered The Hound to kill Mycah!”

 

Gendry was quiet for a moment before he said, “If my father and your father were best friends, why does your family and his family hate each other so much? I don’t understand why they’re fighting each other.”

 

“I don’t know,” Arya admitted. “But the Lannisters _aren’t_ your family. Joffrey is more like the Lannisters. It started when Jaime Lannister attacked my father in the streets, killed his men and broke his leg, but I still don’t know why. Then King Robert died and they accused my father of being a traitor, but it was a lie. He’d never betray his friend.”

 

Gendry shook his head and said, “I saw his confession. I thought he really was a traitor. I mean why would anyone lie about being a traitor? But now that I know him, I don’t know what to think.” He studied her face for a few moments. “You don’t think he’s a traitor, then?”

 

“No, you stupid!” Arya exclaimed, punching him in the arm.

 

“Then why did he lie?” Gendry asked. “They say he’s an honorable man and he’s seems honest enough to me. But he can’t be both since he admitted he was a traitor, but now you’re saying he’s not.”

 

“He was trying to protect my sister,” Arya said. “And me too, probably. He hadn’t realized that they never had me to start with.”

 

“So your sister, what’s she like? Is she like you?”

 

“No, not at all. Sansa doesn’t even look like she could be my sister to be honest. She’s pretty and a proper lady. Septa Mordane always praised her stitches, her singing, her manners…everything. Everyone thought she was perfect. I was always a disappointment. That’s why I was always closer to Jon. He was a bastard and I never fit in, either, so we could be different together,” Arya said quietly, remembering the old hurts as clearly as if they were physical wounds that still ached. “I thought I hated Sansa because she always told me I was an awful sister, and she protected Joffrey rather than telling the truth about what he did to Mycah. But now I wish that she was here, and I’d do anything to see her again.”

 

“Arya.” It was her father. They both jumped up and saw him standing there behind them. Arya wondered how much he heard. His grey eyes, so like hers and Jon’s, studied her seriously. “You were _never_ a disappointment. Your mother and I loved all of our children equally. We didn’t love Sansa more, and I won’t have you think such things.”

 

Arya didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t meant for him to hear that. Glancing at Gendry, she said, “Gendry was confused about why you confessed to being a traitor when you weren’t. I didn’t know exactly why you confessed, but I thought it might have been because of Sansa.”

 

“It was. It’s a very complicated situation,” he said, sitting down on a log in front of them. With his cast gone, he could move more easily, but his leg still pained him and grew stiff. “I learned some things that I wasn’t supposed to know, so the queen had me arrested for treason to keep me silent. I confessed because they promised that if I did, Sansa would be safe.”

 

“My lord,” Gendry began, pausing to glance up nervously. Her father nodded for him to continue. “Pardon me for asking, but doesn’t your escape put Lady Sansa in more danger?”

 

“My sons attacked the queen’s brother’s camp and now hold Jaime Lannister hostage. The queen won’t hurt Sansa for fear that they’ll hurt her brother,” Father explained. He smiled briefly. “They were wise. Wiser than I was at playing this game, at least. They’re making good alliances with your uncle, sending men to help us, and also working on getting Sansa out of King’s Landing. I’m very proud of them.” Gendry looked startled at the mention of his uncle, clearly not yet used to the idea of his Baratheon family.

 

“Would Robb and Jon kill the Kingslayer if the queen hurt Sansa?” Arya asked. She was worried about her sister, but still hoped that Robb and Jon would make the man pay for what he’d done to her father, Jory Cassel and the others.

 

“It depends on how much they hurt her,” he answered darkly. “But I imagine that they’d match the severity of any damage done to Sansa. And the queen knows this.”

 

Arya was about to ask something else but Gendry shushed her abruptly. He stood slowly and reached for his sword, her father moving to do the same and clearly listening out for anything unusual. Then Arya heard it: a chorus of low growls. Her father grabbed her arm, pushing her behind him. The growls came closer and both her father and Gendy began backing away from the trees, pulling her with them. The first wolf appeared, lips drawn back in a snarl as he watched them. He was soon joined by two more. All three wolves watched them warily. The fourth wolf, a much larger one, came out of trees. Arya’s heart froze. _I know you._

 

“Nymeria!” Arya lurched forward, only for her father to grab her round the waist and hold her back.

 

“Arya, no! Those wolves are dangerous. She’s been in the wild for a long time and is no longer safe,” Father warned, refusing to loosen his hold on her.

 

Nymeria looked them over slowly. She took in Gendry, then her father, until at last her yellow-eyed gaze settled on Arya. She raised her head slightly and sniffed the air, her eyes never leaving her. The three smaller wolves started advancing and Gendry looked at them askance.

 

“Gendry, take Arya back to the camp _now_ ,” her father ordered. In that moment she realized that a number of men had joined them, were standing behind them with their swords drawn. _They must have come from the camp. Please, they can’t hurt Nymeria._

 

“No Father!  You can’t hurt her,” Arya pleaded, attempting to pull loose of his hold on her.

 

Everything happened so fast that she wasn’t sure who moved first. Two of the wolves charged towards Father and Arya, but Nymeria was suddenly between them, stopping their approach. She snapped at one and when it didn’t back down, sank her teeth into its neck and shook her head, flinging the wolf from side to side as it whined in pain. The second wolf cowered and the third returned to the cover of the trees. When Nymeria released the first wolf, dropping it to the ground in a bloody heap, the remaining wolf made for the trees as well. Nymeria’s eyes turned towards her father and she growled low at him.

 

“Father, let go of me,” Arya said urgently. “She thinks you’re hurting me.” 

 

Her father hesitated for a moment, but released her when Nymeria looked poised to spring. “Don’t attempt to move, Arya, or I will pull you back again,” he warned quietly. “She’s still wild…but she does appear to remember you.”

 

“She does,” Arya said confidently. “Nymeria, down,” she ordered. The direwolf looked confused for a moment, but when Arya repeated the command, more sharply this time, Nymeria sat down on her haunches, still watching Arya closely. Reaching out her hand slowly, Arya felt her father tense beside her. “Father, trust me _please_. She won’t hurt me.”

 

Nymeria eyed her father for a moment before returning her gaze to Ayra. After a few moments, she leaned forward to sniff at her fingers. She gave them a small lick. Arya ignored the blood on her tongue as she leaned closer to allow the wolf to lick her palm. She took a step forward and Nymeria rubbed her head against her hand.

  
Tears filled her eyes and began to roll down her cheeks, but she made no attempt to stop them, not caring if Gendry saw them. Ignoring her father’s hurried warning, Arya threw her arms around Nymeria and hugged her close.  She heard her father curse softly and his men exclaim something, but she didn’t care about them, either. For the first time since they’d parted, Arya felt whole again. Nymeria tensed at first, but relaxed in her embrace, burying her blood-soaked muzzle in Arya’s tunic. And quietly, in the back of her mind, Arya felt her. _She’s still confused, but she knows me, too._

 

“I’m back now,” Arya whispered. “I promise. I won’t make you leave again.”

 

x-x-x

 

Robb burst into his chambers without knocking. He gaped for a moment at Jon’s split lip and swollen eye and sputtered, “Is it true you got into a fight with some of Lord Tarly’s men?”

 

Jon sighed. “Word travels fast.”

 

“Jon, Renly just honored you with a knighthood, and you repay him by acting like an impulsive fool?”

 

“Are you going to ask me _why_ I was fighting, or are you just going to spit words at me? But my thanks for assuming I was in the wrong, brother. Your faith in me is astounding.” Jon crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his brother.

 

“Whether you were right or wrong, I’d have hoped you would have refrained from starting a brawl. But please, enlighten me. What grievous event made you lose your temper?” Robb sat down on the chair and ran a hand through his hair. _He looks like Father when he does that._

 

“I was sparring with Brienne. None of the other men will, which is a shame because she’s very good…”

 

“ _Jon._ ”

 

Jon glared at him again and continued. “After we’d finished and she left, some knight named Kyle, or Hyle, or some-such, came over and told me I was wasting my time on ‘Brienne the Beauty’ as he called her, as Lord Tarly had put an end to the wager. When I said I had no idea what he was talking about, he explained that the knights had made a wager when she first arrived to see who could win her maidenhead. He assumed that’s why I was spending time with her. There were words exchanged and he _might_ have said something about her being the best a bastard from the north could do, even if his brother’s a lord, and then his face fell into my fist. Repeatedly.”

 

 Robb stared at him intently. “So you were defending her honor _and_ your pride.”

 

“I was hoping you’d see it as more about her honor than my pride,” Jon admitted. “You should have heard the filth this man was spewing. Brienne gets tormented enough with their sniggering. I’ve even heard Loras make remarks about her. She doesn’t deserve it. I understand that she’s different. She’s too serious, too awkward, too shy…but she’s good and she’s loyal. She’s a far better person than Ser whats-his-name, and they all know it, and still they hate her! Besides, doesn’t knighthood mean we should defend the innocent?”

 

“You’ve been listening to too many of Sansa’s songs,” Robb replied with a snort. “Do you have feelings for this Brienne?”

 

“No!” Jon exclaimed. “She’s my friend. I enjoy her company. She doesn’t expect me to act like…well, she doesn’t expect me to act like you.”

 

“Who expects you to act like me?”

 

“Everyone. I’m always being compared to you. I’m the more serious one, I’m the quieter one, I’m the more hot-tempered one. I’m the opposite of everything good about you. I thought it would be different once we left Winterfell, but I’ll always be the bastard,” Jon said sullenly, glancing out the window so he didn’t have to look at Robb.

 

“Jon, don’t be ridiculous. People compare all siblings. I’ve heard everyone comparing Renly to Robert and Stannis, and none of them are bastards. Perhaps because you’ve become so wary of people thinking less of you, you’re always going to suspect they are. You _are_ quieter and more serious than me, but I don’t think anyone considers it a bad thing, and if they do, then damn them. Just remember that people respect you for what you’ve done in battle so far and ignore the rest of them. Don’t be so distrustful of people that you don’t give them a chance.” Robb rose then. “I’m sorry I misjudged you. What you did was honorable and I’m glad you weren’t hurt much. I do hope, however, that next time you’ll use something other than your fists to make your point, even if it worked on those southern prats.”

 

Jon attempted to hold back a smirk but nodded. “Is it true that we’re marching again tomorrow?”

 

“Aye Renly is taking the men from the Stormlands with him to confront his brother. The men from the Riverlands will remain here to cut off the Lannisters if they move south, keep them from advancing on any of our troops. We’re taking the Northmen and the majority of the Tyrell forces to raid the Westerlands,” Robb said with a smile. “Once Tywin thinks Casterly Rock is in danger, he’ll turn back and we’ll catch him between our forces.”

 

“Renly’s giving you command of the Tyrell forces?” Jon said in surprise. The Tyrells were the larger part of his host.

 

“He thinks it best to meet Stannis with only the Stormlords. Even without the Tyrells, he still has twice the number of men as Stannis. He also wants us to hit Tywin Lannister’s lands with as much force as possible. Loras will go with him, along with Mace Tyrell and the queen. Ser Garlan will lead the men from the Reach, but will report to me.. It’s a bit overwhelming, brother—Renly has trusted me with the majority of his men, but I think he’s been impressed by the fierceness of the Northern lords, as well as some of the Riverlords. Lord Umber, Lord Karstark, and Lady Mormont, Ser Brynden, Lord Blackwood and Lord Mallister—I think he knows his forces are in good hands, and that we wouldn’t betray him. I’m still concerned about Father, so Galbert Glover is taking some men to find them. He’ll take them to Renly’s host once he does. We don’t want them to fall into the hands of either Stannis or Tywin.”

 

“Do you want me to go with them?”

 

“No, I want you by my side,” Robb replied firmly. “I need you with me, Jon. Mother is travelling with Renly in the hopes of reuniting with Father. I think Renly is going to attempt to use Father to help make peace with Stannis. Between you and me, though, the Blackfish says it won’t work. Stannis would never negotiate with a man he thinks has stolen his crown and he has little affection for Father.”

 

“Stannis doesn’t have enough men. Surely he can see. What good is a crown if he’ll tear the realm apart to get it?”

 

“Apparently none of that matters to Stannis. It’s all about _his_ rights to the throne. I’d hate for the king to have to fight his brother,” Robb said. “But I don’t know if I disagree that Stannis should give up his rightful claim.”

 

“Any news on Sansa?”

 

“Dacey and Daryn are still there. The goal is to get her as far as the Mander, and then take a boat to Highgarden.”

 

“She’s being taken farther south? Is that wise? We’ll have Father, Arya and your mother in the Stormlands or the Reach, depending on where Stannis and Renly meet. We’ll be in the Westerlands and Sansa will be in Highgarden? Not to mention Bran and Rickon in Winterfell,” Jon furrowed his brows. “I don’t like the thought of our family  spreading out even further. What did Father always say? A pack should keep together.”

 

“Father’s not here,” Robb replied curtly. “Winterfell is the safest place for Bran and Rickon. The queen suggested Highgarden as a safe place for Sansa to remain until she is reunited with Arya and my mother. After that, Father can decide how best to get them north again.” Robb sighed, rubbing his knuckles against his chin. “I’d hoped to hear from Theon before we left Riverrun, but there’s been nothing. I hope his ship made it to the Iron Islands safely.”

 

“Robb…I know you don’t want to believe Theon could betray you, but perhaps it would be wise to warn the king that you haven’t heard from him. If Balon Greyjoy attempts to rebel again, Renly would be caught completely unawares until it’s too late.”

 

His brother was silent for a long moment. “Well you’re right about that, and you’ll be pleased to hear that I’ve already told Renly. But Theon wouldn’t betray me. I know he wouldn’t.”

 

 

 

__


	8. Chapter 7

 

 

_A/N Thanks to my fabulous beta,[Auria](../../../users/Auria). _ __Thanks again for all the reviews. Hope you continue to enjoy the fic :)_ _

 

**Chapter 7**

 

The sight of the banner made Ned a sigh in relief. Never before had he been so thankful to see the mailed fist of House Glover, silver emblazed on a field of red, flying high over the men moving swiftly in their direction. His party had stopped for longer than he’d liked, but the scouts he’d sent out were reporting that forces from two different armies were close by. One was clearly the Lannister ~~s~~ forces, but the allegiance of the other had yet to be confirmed.  The group bore the banner of the crowned stag, but Ned wasn’t sure if they belonged to Renly, Stannis or even Joffrey. The Smalljon had heard tell that Joffrey was using a new sigil now, a combination of stag of House Baratheon and a lion of House Lannister, but Ned was keen for more certainty before they made their move. _I shant mistake foe for friend again._ Tywin’s forces were scattered and had changed their course ~~s~~ a few times, and Ned grew impatient with how their progress was being impeded. He couldn’t risk their small group of men, however, most of whom were for the Night’s Watch, little more than boys, unarmed and unskilled. An encounter with one of Tywin Lannister’s raiding parties could be the end of them.

 

They had already been forced to retreat from the Stony Sept, driving them further south. They couldn’t go north without risking a direct encounter with the Lannister army proper, so Ned had turned south then west to travel along the Gold Road. They crossed it once, at night, and then remained to the south of it as much as possible. He was surprised the Glovers had found them at all. _Let’s hope the Lannisters aren’t as capable as the Northmen. Or as lucky, perhaps._

 

Galbart Glover dismounted at the sight of Ned, the Smalljon and Ser Rodrik taking positions at either side of him. “It’s good to see you again, my lord,” he said, taking a knee.

 

“Not nearly as good as it is to see you and your men,” Ned returned solemnly. “My scouts report that we’re surrounded by other forces, and I’m not certain which ones are friendly. There are Baratheons to the south of us, not far, I think. A few days from Bitterbridge, perhaps.”

 

“That is definitely a party you wish to intercept, my lord,” Galbart smiled. “Assuming you wish to see your wife.”

 

“Catelyn? Why is she not with Robb?” Ned exclaimed. _You no longer are their lord, Ned. Robb is and you must trust your son, not question his actions. Any sign that you do not trust him will cause his men to doubt him. His men…not yours._

 

“My lord, Lord Robb and Ser Jon have taken the majority of the Tyrell forces to raid the Westerlands. But Lord Robb sent us to find you. Lord…King… _Lord_ Stannis marches to meet King Renly,” Galbart explained hesitantly.  “Forgive me, my lord, I’m no longer sure which title to use. Lady Stark wished to travel with the king’s party since we were ordered to bring you back to him. As soon as Lord Robb learned that Lady Arya was with you, he and Lady Stark decided that Lady Arya and Lady Sansa should remain somewhere safe until you can return them to Winterfell. Queen Margaery suggested Highgarden.”

 

“Has Sansa been rescued yet?” Ned asked quickly, his heart filling with hope.

 

Galbart’s face revealed the answer before he spoke it. “Lord Robb has heard from Dacey Mormont and Daryn Hornwood. All is well in King’s Landing for the nonce, but they have not yet been able to escape the city. Lady Mormont has made contact with Lady Sansa and is keeping a close eye on her, but Tyrion Lannister is acting as Hand of the King now, and has taken a special interest in Lady Sansa, no doubt aware that her treatment will affect his brother’s well-being.” He paused. “My lord, another reason King Renly wished you to intercept his party is that he hopes you might aid him with the negations with his brother.”

 

Ned nodded sharply, despite his unease. _Stannis will never negotiate for what he believes is his. He is still bitter that Robert gave Storm’s End to Renly. Surely Renly cannot think that Stannis will give up the Iron Throne._ Aloud, he said, “Come. I’m certain you and your men could use some food and rest. I wish to hear more about Robb’s plans and the events I’ve missed.” He recalled Glover’s earlier words suddenly. “ _Ser_ Jon?”

 

“Yes, King Renly knighted your sons for their part in capturing the Kingslayer,” Galbart explained as he following him, leading his horse behind him.

 

As soon as they entered the camp, Ned heard gasps from the men behind him, their horses making fearful noises and drawing back. Ned saw Nymeria watching them silently from where Arya and Gendry were practicing. The wolf had remained at Arya’s side since they’d found her and tolerated no one approaching her mistress save Ned or Gendry. When others attempted to get near, she’d growl, crouching down, ready to spring. Jacks had to brave most of it, though the direwolf did appear to be slightly more tolerate of him than others. And for some strange reason Nymeria appeared to have a fondness for the boy called Hot Pie. Ned suspected it was because Hot Pie enjoyed cooking by the fire at night for his companions and frequently gave Arya and Gendry food when the wolf was nearby.  Hot Pie had stopped cowering around the wolf at least. Arya had warned him to stop feeding Nymeria, though, or she’d eat her weight in food needed for the men when she able to hunt on her own.

 

“Ah, that would be Nymeria,” Ned explained to Galbart. “She’s from the same pack as Ghost and Grey Wind, who you must have met with Robb and Jon.”

 

“Yes, but your sons’ wolves seem less hostile around Lord Robb’s allies. In fact, Ghost is rather tame, though unnerving to behold,” Galbart said, his eyes never leaving the direwolf.

 

“Nymeria has been living in the wild since my journey to King’s Landing. The queen wanted her killed for an attack on Joffrey, so Arya forced her to run away. We came upon her recently and she remembered Arya. She’s far from tame, if any of these direwolves can ever be considered tame. But she’s protective of Arya, almost as much as Arya is protective of her. I don’t have the heart to separate them, even if she _did_ let me live through it.”

 

Ned walked to the fire where Lommy and three other boys from the Night’s Watch were roasting a few hares they’d caught, along with some pheasants and ducks. Hot Pie was nearby, cooking some pease and bread. Yoren sat on a rock nearby sharpening his sword. The man named Jaqen H’ghar watched Ned closely as he reclined on a log. Yoren had allowed him to do some of the scouting and he’d been gone so long this last time that Ned had been certain he’d run, but then he returned with the news of Bitterbridge.

 

“Hot Pie, could you and your friend make certain our guests have food and ale?” Ned requested and the boy nodded quickly. Turning, Ned called out to Gendry and Arya. When his daughter reached his side, she was flushed and out of breath. “Lord Glover has come to aid our return to your mother and brothers, Arya.”

 

“It is good to see you safe and unharmed, my lady,” Galbart said with a smile.

 

Arya bowed her head curtly. “Is Larence with your men?” Ned recalled that Larence Snow, the bastard son of Lord Hornwood and ward of Lord Glover, was a year older than Arya but had spent time with her and Bran when he came to Winterfell with the Glovers.

 

“No, my lady. He remains in Deepwood Motte with Lady Sybelle. He’s too young for such a journey, and I imagine your father would prefer for you to be elsewhere, as well.” Galbert was studying Gendry closely. “And who is your friend?”

 

“This is Gendry. He’s King Robert’s bastard,” Arya blurted, much to Gendry’s embarrassment. “That’s why he looks like him and King Renly, everyone says so.”

 

“ _Arya_.” Ned shook his head at his daughter’s frankness and continued, “You and Gendry need to help the others in camp. Help see that Lord Glover’s men and the scouts that have just returned are given refreshments. You’re only to practice when all of the other chores in camp are done, as you well know.”

 

“Yes, Father,” Arya replied with chagrin, though Ned truly doubted she felt so.  Gendry followed her to the fire and Nymeria went to sit beside Hot Pie, watching closely as the boy handled the food.

 

“Hot Pie, do _not_ give her scraps,” Arya warned when he tossed some bread to Nymeria. “One of these days she’s going to snatch something off someone’s plate and, if their hand gets in the way, it won’t be pretty.”  Hot Pie’s eyes widened so much that Ned had to smile. Despite being the youngest and smallest of the group, his daughter had taken charge of the group, a group of misfit children for lack of a better term. None of them were old or mature enough to become part of the Night’s Watch, but Yoren had said that the Lord Commander would assign them duties around Castle Black while they were trained. Hopefully, none of these boys would be sent ranging for a few more years. It was hard to think that boys their age ~~s~~ were probably fighting beside Ned’s sons now, but Northmen were a hardier lot than these orphans from King’s Landing.

 

“Come, let us find a more private place to speak,” Ned said. “Jaqen, Wills, and Patrek, please come with us so you can report on the latest scouting.” The scouts followed Ned, Lord Glover, the Smalljon, and Ser Rodrik to Ned’s tent area.

 

Clustering around the map that Ser Rodrik had brought, Ned began marking the areas as the scouts reported them, growing more and more frustrated. The area they had to travel to, Bitterbridge, was surrounded by raiders and Stormlords of dubious loyalties. Ned didn’t know which was worse. Once the scouts had been excused, Arya arrived with food for Lord Glover and moved to sit beside her father.

 

“How are Robb and Jon? How’s my mother? Are they in Riverrun, or are they to meet us soon?” she fired off without pausing for breath.

 

“Lord Robb is well, as is Ser Jon. Your mother sent some clothing for you and a letter. She misses you fiercely,” Lord Glover said with a gentle smile.

 

Arya’s eyes widened and she exclaimed, “ _Ser_ Jon? My brother Jon was knighted?”

 

“Aye, they both were.”

 

“But they could only have been knighted if they committed brave acts. What did they—” ~~~~

“Arya, let the man eat,” Ned warned. “And go help the others for now, as I said before. I will speak with you when I’m finished and tell you all about Jon and Robb’s heroic acts.”

 

“But Father, Lord Glover likely _saw_ their heroic acts first-hand. I’d rather hear it from him,” Arya replied, not paying much mind to the tension in her father’s expression until she glanced into his eyes. She frowned and nodded. “Perhaps he can tell me later when he’s done speaking to you.”

 

As soon as she walked away, Ned looked back at the map. “How many men did you bring with you, Galbert?”

 

“Five and twenty, my lord.”

 

“You will lead your men ahead of our band. Most of the men bound for the Night’s Watch are not armed or trained. We cannot leave them unprotected, nor will I put my daughter at further risk. Ser Rodrik and I will lead the Night’s Watch group and the men from Winterfell. The remaining Northmen will follow us to make sure we’re not attacked from behind. We should be able to reach Bitterbridge within a day or two at most. These men along the Mander are Baratheon men, carrying the crowned stag and black banners with silver crow’s feet. Do we know if they are sworn to Stannis or Renly? I’m assuming Joffrey will not have risked sending men so close to where his uncles are meeting.” He raised his eyes to Lord Glover.

 

“We’ve had reports that Lord Stannis carries a different sigil than the crowned stag. Joffrey’s sigil has both a lion and a stag. It seems likely that the banners you saw belonged to House Footlys, whose banners bear silver caltrops on black. These men fought at Riverrun with Lord Tyrell and King Renly,” Lord Glover replied.

 

“Most likely you’re right,” Ned answered, still staring at the map. He loathed the thought of taking Yoren’s men further south, but there was nothing else to be done. They could take a ship from Storm’s End to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, thereby bypassing the Lannister armies as well as any men from King’s Landing looking for them on land. Ned would pay the gold for their passage himself if need be. “We’ll leave at first light. I mislike the idea of losing another day, but it is late enough that we best not start now. Now Lord Glover, if you don’t mind, I’d love to hear updates about my family and the war. What news of Sansa?”

 

~*~

 

Daryn found Dacey in the Godswood, kneeling in front of the heart tree. As he drew closer, he could make out the signs of distress on her face and in the way her body shook. He’d never seen her in this state and quietly watched her struggling with her emotions, unwilling to intrude. She seemed on the verge of tears, but he knew her well enough to know she’d never let them fall.

 

“We must take her now, Daryn. I cannot stand by and allow her to be beaten before the court again. He practically stripped her to do it!” she exclaimed, her eyes wild. “We’re supposed to protect her and there was _nothing_ I could do.” Daryn had entered the hall just as Tyrion Lannister had put an end to the beating, but Dacey had witnessed the whole event. She’d listened to the lies Lancel Lannister had spat about the Northern troops warging into wolves and feasting on the wounded at Oxcross. They’d both struggled to contain their fury, and it had been a close thing, helplessness breeding rashness. If the Imp hadn’t stopped it, Daryn wasn’t sure Dacey wouldn’t have, unlike the room full of _honorable_ southern knights.

 

“They made the Northmen sound like filthy _savages_ ,” Dacey answered quietly. “They’re treating Lady Sansa like she’s a dog for them to torment.”

 

“It’s hard to see…”

 

“My lady mother never tried to make me or my sisters act like ladies. When we were younger, we went to Winterfell for the harvest festival and Lady Stark was teaching Lady Sansa how to sit properly and how to address each person there. Sansa insisted on calling me Lady Dacey, even though I kept telling her I was not a lady.” Dacey smiled for a brief moment. “A few days later I heard her ask Lord Stark why I didn’t wear dresses like the other ladies. He was silent before he explained that if Lady Mormont wanted her daughters to be happy, she’d allow them to choose if they wanted to be a proper lady or a warrior because, unlike women from the South, women from the North are allowed to defend their people ~~~~without it being considered unacceptable. He said the day that a parent takes that away that choice from a Northern girl is the day that we turn our backs on the Old Gods.”

 

Dacey picked at her dress for a moment before turning to look at him. “Lady Sansa said she wanted to be a lady like her mother. Lord Eddard told her how proud he was of his little lady, but he’d be just as proud of her if she chose differently. Lord Stark was the first man I ever heard explain why my mother allowed us to be different.”

 

Daryn nodded with a smile. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “I think Lord Eddard would be proud to know that you’re here, guarding over his daughter today.”

 

“She’s a stronger lady than any of these southern women and they know it, too. Because of that, they’re attempting to beat it out of her,” Dacey retorted. “Even after what they did, she walked out of that hall with grace, with her head held high. She might have her mother’s courtesy, but she has the strength and iron will of the North.”

 

They were silent for a few moments, listening to the breeze through the heart tree. Finally Daryn said, “I went to see Mors as soon as I left the throne room. He says there is a ship called the Firestorm waiting in the harbor for us. Tomorrow the Royal Family will watch Princess Myrcella depart for Dorne, and I will be among the Gold Cloaks with them. As we return to the Red Keep, I will make sure that Lady Sansa separates from the group. You will wait in one of the buildings with an underground tunnel leading back to the harbor.” He handed her a drawing that detailed the route under the streets.

 

“Mors will help me, but you must warn Lady Sansa. She hasn’t seen me in years and won’t suspect a Gold Cloak to be anyone from the north. If two strange men attempt to take her, she will panic and possibly scream or run. I know it’s risky to do it this way, but I agree that we can’t wait much longer. The people in the city are growing increasingly unruly as the rumors persist that Stannis Baratheon plans to attack the city, to usurp Joffrey and prevent Renly from taking the throne for himself. Not to mention the boy king allows them to starve.”

 

“Be careful, Daryn. It would be of little help to any of us if you were murdered on duty,” she said with a frown. “I’ll find a way to get to Lady Sansa tonight. If all else fails and I cannot get to her, tell her who you are. Mentioning Northern houses will make her less reluctant. Certainly she remembers your father, everyone else does.”

 

Daryn had to smile at that. His father was a notoriously jovial man who often brought gifts for the families he visited, the Stark children especially. “My father once gave Lady Sansa a silver hairpiece with winter roses etched into it and told her to remember House Hornwood when she wore it. She was only a child at the time, but I remember she wore the hairpiece throughout our visit.”

 

“Remind her of that if I am unable to reach her. Daryn, we cannot fail her. We cannot fail the Starks. I promised Lord Robb I would protect her,” Dacey said, voice firm. 

 

Once more Daryn wondered at Dacey’s fierce loyalty to Robb. At first he’d thought it was due to her mother’s fondness for Lord Eddard, or the respect instilled in every highborn northern child for the Starks. But Dacey’s devotion to Lord Robb seemed to go beyond that. He hadn’t known her well before their mission, so he’d assumed it was possible that she considered this duty an honor, and the thought of failure inconceivable.

 

Mormont women were known for their strength and courage in battle, but some men still did not consider them as equal to their male counterparts, some being so bold as to snigger at the thought of them in battle.  Robb obviously thought highly of the Mormont women, no doubt in part to Lord Eddard’s beliefs, and perhaps that had won Dacey’s loyalty. He hoped it was nothing more than that. Though Dacey Mormont was the heir to Bear Island and an attractive bride to many ambitious lords, it was likely that Robb Stark would take a wife from other lands to bring another alliance to the North, especially in times of war. Lady Mormont had never attempted to arrange marriages for any of her daughters while Lord Manderly and some of the other Northern lords had been attempting to secure a marriage to the Stark heir since he was a boy. Alys Karstark, Daryn’s own betrothed, had been encouraged by her father to win Robb Stark’s affections when they were children in the hopes of a betrothal. Thankfully for Daryn, Robb had been more interested in swords than girls.

 

“We’ll take her tomorrow,” he reassured her again. “Now try to compose yourself so you’ll be more careful when you attempt to see her.”

 

“I’m fine,” she replied, more calmly. “Now that I know it’s only a matter of time, it’ll be easier to make it through the remaining hours.”

 

~*~

 

Jon sat and watched as the camp followers made their rounds through the men, batting their lashes and rustling their skirts. The tents belonging to the Tyrell forces were more extravagant than the Northerners, with long tables covered in green and yellow silk and golden dishes. It reminded Jon of Riverrun’s Great Hall, with its attempt to appear regal. Almost every foot of wall space was adorned with yellow roses on green, the banners proudly bearing the words of House Tyrell. _Growing Strong indeed. They’ll certainly grow with the amount they’re eating._ Right now the dining hall was filled to the brim with knights and lords of the Reach, northern lords and some of their men, singers, serving women, and many others. Jon could see from their sour looks that Lords Karstark and Umber weren’t impressed and knew he’d worn a similar expression himself when he’d first taken in their surroundings. The comfortable opulence seemed out of place where a battle had occurred so recently.

 

The battle at Oxcross had left Jon tired, but he was restless. He’d attempted to write a letter to Bran and Rickon, but the noise from the camp had been so distracting, he’d barely managed a few sentences. Garlan Tyrell had declared that Jon was feeling the lust that follows a battle and that he needed to find himself a woman for the night. A few women had already attached themselves to his brother, but Robb had seemed as reluctant as Jon felt.

 

“What is it, Ser?” Garlan asked now, coming up behind him. “No women to your liking?”

 

Jon shook his head, his cheeks coloring. “My father didn’t encourage use of brothels and a camp follower seems no different.”

 

“Your father sounds…interesting,” Ser Garlan muttered. “Perhaps we’re more frivolous at Highgarden. Men experiment at young ages, far younger than you or your brother. Highborn, lowborn, it makes no difference save that highborn men know how to be discreet and lowborn do not care.”

 

“I won’t risk fathering a bastard,” Jon replied shortly, taking a swig of his ale. Nodding to the women at his brother’s side, he continued, “I’ve watched how some of them narrow in on the ones they find attractive, but most tend to find the most highborn young man they can, or failing that, a knight. It seems to me that they wish to find something other than a warm bed. I’m surprised you don’t have them pursuing you as well.”

 

Garlan glanced around at the women as if seeing them for the first time. “Very observant, Ser Jon. In times of war, they’re just trying to survive, like most people. And I’m newly married. I don’t wish to dishonor my wife.”

 

“I’ve no lands, no titles, nothing to offer any woman other than company for the night or the protection of my sword. It seems an uneven trade, so I’d prefer not to mislead them into thinking there is more to be had. And I’d offer protection to anyone who asked for it, so there is no reason for them to warm my bed for it,” Jon replied stubbornly.

 

Unable to stop himself, Garlan laughed. “Jon Snow, you need to enjoy life more. You’re younger than I am, yet sometimes I feel as if I’m speaking with an old man, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. When we ride into battle, you carry all of that with you, and it’s dangerous.  Leave it behind once in a while. Why are you fighting, if not for happiness and a better life?”

 

Jon thought about it for a moment. Why was he fighting? _Because Robb and the rest of his family needed him._ Once Arya and Sansa were safely with his father and their mother, he would remain by Robb’s side if he wished it, but he truly had no greater purpose than his duty to his family.  Robb was earning glory as the Lord of Winterfell and possible favor with their new king. Jon had been knighted, something he had never dreamed of, but what more did he want? _What more could a bastard expect to gain?_

 

He was so involved in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Garlan’s departure or Robb’s approach until his brother was seated next to him. “You’ve been very quiet tonight,” Robb said as he helped himself to ale. “More so than usual, even. What’s troubling you?”

 

“After Father, Arya, and Sansa are returned to us, I’ll have little enough reason to remain with you,” Jon admitted.  “I left the Night’s Watch because you needed me, because our family needed me. Once our family is safe again, I don’t know if I should return to my place at the Night’s Watch or remain here.” He reached down to stroke Ghost’s fur. Perhaps it was the ale that made him speak so openly. “I have never truly felt like I belonged anywhere. I keep hoping for a clearer picture of my place.”

 

Robb sighed. “I don’t feel like I belong here anymore than you feel like you belong at Winterfell. I was never meant to be Lord of Winterfell while Father lived. For his title to be have been stripped by a false king, then for me to make an alliance with another king as Lord of Winterfell puts me in an awkward situation. I almost expect to be sent back to Winterfell like a child when Father returns.” He chuckled as he looked around the feasting tables. “These are my men as much as they are his now. They follow my orders, they fight at my side. But how can I usurp my own father?”

 

“You didn’t,” Jon replied. “Joffrey Baratheon pushed this on us and you reacted in the only way you could to protect our family. You’ve done well and Father will be proud of you. I dare say our father wouldn’t have come up with some of your more audacious schemes, like the escape plan for Sansa. He’s a good man, an honorable man, but you’re a more resourceful and daring man than he is now that he has a family to worry about.”

 

“If I hadn’t acted as I did, we would have lost everything. I wasn’t being daring. I was terrified that we’d lose our sisters or our father. I will not stop until we’re all home together again. But I’ve committed myself to helping to remove the Lannisters from the throne now as well. I’d like you to stay with me, brother. After the war ends, you will be given lands and titles just as I would give Bran or Rickon were they in your place. I know we don’t share the same name or the same mother but ~~,~~ you’re my brother, and you always have been. Even my mother could not begrudge you this, and I wouldn’t care if she did. You’ve fought valiantly for our family and you will be recognized for it, you have my word,” Robb insisted, grasping his shoulder. “I hope you don’t consider the Night’s Watch your only option for glory. You can earn glory by _my_ side. But there are risks involved in either choice.”

 

Jon was moved by Robb’s promise and nodded. He wasn’t doing this for the rewards, of course, but the idea of being acknowledged warmed his insides. Growing up, Jon had always that Robb and Bran considered him their brother as much as each other. Jon was fairly certain that Rickon was too young and had no idea that there was a difference between Jon and his true born brothers. Arya considered him her favorite brother to hear her tell it. Sansa was the only one who insisted on referring to him as her half-brother, but even that was said with courtesy and clarity, never spitefulness. She never called him her _bastard_ brother.

 

Lady Catelyn had been more civil to him in Riverrun. He couldn’t hate her, not really, not when his father and siblings loved her so much, and she them. But she would never accept him remaining at Robb’s side once this war ended. She considered Jon a threat to the true born Stark children, _her_ children, and no matter what he did, that fear would persist unless he went away. He understood it, though it wasn’t fair. But Jon had learned long ago that life wasn’t fair, not for bastards. He’d never do anything to hurt his brothers and sisters, but Lady Stark would never be able see that because she barely knew Jon. She’d always kept him at arm’s length, never even having a conversation with him, and though he felt like the boy for caring, the memory of it still stung. His father’s guilt over the dishonor of his birth likely prevented him from defending Jon’s character to her. At least that’s what Jon told himself. _And why should he cause more ill-will between his lady wife and himself on your behalf? Hasn’t he done enough, taking you home to Winterfell and naming you his son?_ Jon didn’t know, and he didn’t want to think of that now.

 

 _It should have been you_ Lady Stark had said to him when he came to say farewell to Bran before he left for the Wall. He would have gladly traded places with Bran. Bran did not deserve to lose his legs. No one who enjoyed climbing that much should ever lose the ability to run and be free, and besides, Bran had a future, he had a birthright. Jon was nothing, not really, so he had little to lose.

 

“I’ll stay by your side, as long as you need me,” he answered, trying to push Lady Stark’s words out of his mind. “But don’t be surprised if your mother wishes me to be gone eventually.”

 

Guilt flashed in Robb’s eyes and he nodded. Despite the fact he wished it not to be true, Robb had to be aware that his mother would never accept Jon completely. “She wants me to marry. As soon as we get Father back, she wants me to propose an alliance through marriage, someone in the Riverlands or even the Reach. She says it’s foolish for me to delay longer, as this war might go on for a long time. How do I explain to her that the only two women I fancy are not right for an alliance. Well, one is improbable and the other is impossible.”

 

“Dacey Mormont is…” Jon hesitated before saying. “ _Improbable_. But who is this that that is impossible? You’re the lord of Winterfell, why would anyone consider you…” Suddenly, he glanced at his brother and groaned. “Gods no, Robb. Surely you haven’t been foolish enough to fall under the spell of a married woman.”

 

Robb’s blush told him the answer. “I never intended to, Jon. Gods, do you think I wanted to? I cannot help that she is so intriguing and beautiful. I know she’s married…she’s my queen. But surely you see that she doesn’t love the king. It was a political marriage and—”

 

“So was Father’s marriage to your mother!” Jon replied sharply. “Perhaps it’s better that you focus on women that are not improbable and definitely not impossible. At least your desire for Dacey Mormont won’t get you killed.”

 

“Only if she finds out,” Robb said with a smile.

 

~*~

 

“Lady Stark,” Margaery Tyrell said as she entered the tent. Catelyn rose to her feet and curtsied quickly, but the queen rushed on in excitement. “I have good news for you. Your husband and daughter’s group is not far away. The king’s scouts are leading them here as we speak. I knew you’d want to know no matter the hour.”

 

Catelyn’s eyes filled with tears, but she nodded tersely and turned away, not wanting the younger woman to see her expression. “Thank you, Your Grace. I will dress so I can meet them.”

 

“The king has prepared tents for their party, but he will request that Lord Stark, his advisors, and your daughter join him for a late supper in his private tent. They’ve likely travelled today without stopping and will undoubtedly be hungry. Apparently there are quite a few men with him, some boys bound for the Night’s Watch as well as the Northmen your son sent. If you don’t need my assistance, I will make certain that food is prepared for all of them,” Margaery offered, as if she were there to wait on her.

 

Catelyn smiled as she studied the queen. She was so young, barely older than Sansa, but she seemed so much wiser than her years. Sansa had been a little girl when last she’d seen her, but this girl was a woman. The king had talked at length to Catelyn one night about Margaery’s grandmother, the formidable Lady Olenna Tyrell, more commonly known as the Queen of Thorns. She’d taught her granddaughter well in all things political. Unlike her arrogant father and brash brother, Queen Margaery seemed to know the perfect thing to say, and there was little her sharp eyes seemed to miss. Catelyn partially admired her, but was equally wary. _Can we trust her?_

 

“I’m fine, Your Grace. I can find my way to the king’s tents after I’m dressed,” Catelyn assured her. Margaery smiled again and left quickly.

 

As Catelyn dressed, she couldn’t help but smile. _Ned. Arya._ Finally ~~,~~ she would hold her husband and youngest daughter again. She’d received ravens from Robb and Bran and Rickon, so her sons were safe. If only she had Sansa back as well, this night would be perfect. She couldn’t help thinking that it was too easy, and she feared that it would be snatched away from her. Or Sansa…she couldn’t even bear thinking of not getting Sansa back. She was greedy. She wanted her entire family home, even if that meant that Robb must needs commit to a longer war to help King Renly. As long as they all came home safe and sound, she’d be happy. As it was, Ned had lost most of their people that accompanied him to King’s Landing: men and women who had lived at Winterfell for so long, she couldn’t imagine it without them. When they returned home, they’d mourn their dead. She missed Winterfell and her youngest sons. But for now, she’d rejoice in her husband and daughter returning to her.

 

Pulling her cloak around her, she rushed outside as quickly as she could without looking eager, walking briskly to the tent where Renly took his meals. She heard a ruckus near the horses and a familiar growling that caused her to rush towards the sounds.

 

“Nymeria, no!” Arya snapped, pulling back on the wolf’s lead. Ned was trying to make certain the wild direwolf stayed far away from Renly’s men. She’d already almost attacked the scouts. Catelyn had to smile at her daughter’s appearance. Anyone else would have seen a scruffy, lowborn street urchin, but despite the ragged clothes and closely shorn hair that looked more like a rat’s nest than anything else, Cat knew her daughter on sight. And quite a sight she was, but one that was so precious and beautiful to her in that moment, it took her breath away.

 

“My lord,” a man said from the other side of him, a safe distance away from the direwolf. “Your daughter’s…pet…cannot be put with the hounds, and the horses will bolt with it nearby.”

 

“She’s not a pet,” Arya said. “Father, if you just let me put her in a tent with me, she’ll calm down. You know she will.”

 

“Arya…” Ned glanced up and trailed off upon seeing his wife. _Cat._ He resisted the urge to rush to her and took the rope from Arya. “I think someone wishes to see you and would prefer not to be mauled in the process.”

 

Arya turned around quickly and Catelyn’s heart skipped a beat. Her daughter ran to her, crying out “Mother!” as she flung herself into her arms. Catelyn didn’t care about anything but the feeling of her girl in her arms, holding her tightly and kissing her head gently.

 

“My sweet girl,” she whispered in the short tufts of hair that covered her daughter’s head. “I feared you were lost.”

 

Shaking her head rapidly, Arya replied, “Once Yoren got me back to Father, I was fine.” She stepped back and looked at her mother. “I know I don’t look like a proper lady with my hair cut off and these clothes but…” She trailed off and stared at her feet.

 

“Arya, my sweet Arya, you’ve never looked more beautiful to me than right now.” Still holding her daughter to her, Catelyn rose and looked over her husband. Although the journey and the events of King’s Landing had added lines to the face she loved, the wariness in his eyes and the familiar set of his mouth were so very _Ned_ that it comforted her. _Still my Ned, despite what he’s been through._ Once she'd heard that Cersei Lannister had locked him in a black cell, she'd lost hope that she'd see those eyes again, if she were being honest with herself. She gave a sigh of relief at the faint smile that played on his lips as he took in her reunion with Arya. Her husband, her beloved, had been returned to her, a little worse for wear but in one piece all the same. A boy she didn’t know came up and held out his hand to Ned. After a moment, Ned gave him Nymeria’s lead and walked over to join his wife and daughter.

 

Eddard Stark was not normally one to express emotions so openly, so the last thing Catelyn  expected was for her husband to take her in his arms and kiss her in front of everyone. After a moment, Arya giggled and stepped out of their way, walking back to her wolf and the boy. Catelyn held onto Ned like her life depended on it, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back with as much love. After a few moments, she pulled back and said, “It’s good to see you as well, my lord.”

 

“I feared I’d never hold you again,” Ned replied quietly, his fingers lingering on her cheek. “I don’t think I’ll visit the capital again. I don’t think it agrees with me to be parted from you.”

 

“At least you escaped with your head, Lord Stark,” Renly Baratheon said, strolling up to them with Margaery and Loras Tyrell close by his side. Despite the hour, Renly still managed to look regal in his noble finery and Margaery wore similar colors. Both appeared every bit the king and queen, with matching smiles. And, of course, Loras Tyrell looked every ounce the noble kingsguard, or Rainbow Guard as Renly called them to hear tell, with a cloak of rainbow stripes over his expensive, unmarked armor. Once again, Catelyn was struck by their pristine appearances, at such odds with their surroundings. It didn’t sit well with her somehow. “Next time, perhaps you’ll listen to me.”

 

Ned turned and bowed to Renly. “I owe you a most humble apology, Your Grace. And my gratitude. If you had not sought out my sons, there is no telling where I would be now.”

 

“Robert would have wanted me to do anything possible to protect you and your family. He wanted you two to rule together. Unfortunately, we all underestimated the Lannisters’ greed. It seems only fair that they underestimate us now. Lord Robb and I will rule together: Stark and Baratheon…it seems to be the way of things,” Renly said with a grin. Reaching out, he grasped Ned’s shoulder. “We will make them pay for what they did to my family and yours.”

 

Ned nodded, then saw Gendry out of the corner of his eye. The boy looked stricken. “Your Grace,” Ned began and turned to Gendry. “I found someone along the way that I think you might wish to meet.”

 

Renly followed Ned’s glance and started, staring at Gendry in fascination. He took a step forward, but stopped when Nymeria growled. “Gods…he looks just like Robert did when he left for the Vale.”

 

Gendry seemed to remember himself then and bowed, grabbing Arya’s hand as if to remind her. Arya dropped into a clumsy curtsy that would have embarrassed Catelyn under normal circumstances, but now just made her smile. “Excuse me, Your Grace,” the boy said quietly. Catelyn was stunned at his likeness to Renly, particularly noticeable as they stood side by side. _He looks as much like Robert as Ned’s bastard favors him._ But she wouldn’t think of that now. Not with her husband and daughter newly returned to her.

 

“Please rise,” Renly insisted. He glanced back at Ned. “He’s Robert’s son, isn’t he? He looks older than Edric. Where did you find him, Ned? How did he end up with you? And what’s his name?”

 

“His name is Gendry, Your Grace,” Ned answered. “He worked as a smith in King’s Landing, but Lord Varys warned his master to get him out of the capital, so he sent him with a black brother named Yoren. He was protecting Arya when I met him. He’s a good boy…he wants to be a knight some day. I have told him he’s welcome in Winterfell if you did not—”

 

“Nonsense, Ned,” Renly shook his head with a smile. “He can be my squire. And Loras will train him to fight. If Stannis finds out about him, there’s no telling what he might do to him.”

 

“Cersei Lannister already sent men to kill him,” Ned admitted. “She’s likely killed all of Robert’s other bastards in King’s Landing.”

 

Anger flared in Renly’s eyes. “I know. Her bastard son sits on my brother’s throne while his own sons and daughters were slaughtered in the streets of King’s Landing. She won’t get Edric or Mya.” He grinned at Ned’s startled look. “Yes, I know of her. And now, Cersei won’t have Gendry. She’s spilled enough Baratheon blood while her son uses our name as his own.” Remembering himself suddenly, Renly forced a smile. “Come, you’ve had a long journey and I’m sure you’re tired. If Lady Arya would take her wolf someplace safe, we can have some supper. I’d like you to meet my queen and her family, Lord Stark, and I’m sure that everyone could use some food and drink before retiring. Gendry, you will join us. As well as this man who seems to have rescued you and Lady Arya, this Yoren you mentioned.”

 

When Renly walked off with his arm around Gendry’s shoulders, Ned couldn’t help but smile. He was glad that Renly didn’t consider Gendry a threat and had welcomed him into his camp. The lad deserved to meet his family. Turning to Arya, he said, “Let’s put Nymeria in your mother’s tent for now. After we eat, maybe she’ll have settled down.”

 

Arya followed her parents to her mother’s tent and tied Nymeria to a pole. She poured her a bowl of water while her mother eyed the wolf cautiously. “Is she safe around Arya, Ned?”

 

“Yes, she is,” Arya insisted. “She’s just scared of men she doesn’t know. I don’t think she was treated well while we were apart.”

 

Catelyn grabbed a brush and pulled Arya to her. “I can’t stand it any longer,” she said with a laugh as she pulled the brush through Arya’s hair. “You should at least have a clean face and clothing to eat with the king and queen. Unfortunately, a clean face and smooth hair will have to do for now until we can find more suitable clothing for you.”

 

“I have the clean clothes you sent with Lord Glover,” Arya explained. “I didn’t want to get them dirty on the way here.”

 

“I did try to make her presentable,” Ned replied with a small grin. “I think you know very well how difficult that can prove. She did look much worse before our rescue. She’s had a bath this week at least.”

 

“One bath a week is not nearly enough,” Catelyn replied as she finished brushing her hair and grabbed a wet cloth for her face. Afterwards, she held Arya tightly as she fought back tears. Ned reached out and caressed her cheek. “You’re safe and we’re together. That’s what matters now. You’ll be happy to know that your sons are safe as well. Sansa is the only one beyond our reach, but King Renly has assured me that it won’t be much longer before she is returned to us.”

 

Arya went to retrieve her clean dress and change while Ned held Catelyn tightly. “I pray to the gods each day that she is safe. I prayed for Arya and she came back to us. Sansa will too. If not, I will march back to King’s Landing and snatch our daughter from Cersei’s claws. I will get our girl back, Cat. I promise you.”

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 8

 

_A/N Thanks to the lovely Vlad for the beta work! :)_

_I'm so sorry for the long delay. I hope it will never be this long between chapters (unlike my other story, this doesn't have chapters already written just waiting for editing). I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you **SO** much for the great reviews!_

* * *

**Chapter 8**

 

Renly’s personal dining tent was richly appointed with a silk draped table bowed under the weight of plates of meats, fruits, bread, and vegetable. Servants flitted around, keeping everyone’s cups full of rich Dornish wine.  All around the table were different standards that represented those loyal to Renly with his own standard, the crowned stag Robert had used, on each wall of the tent. Ned saw that the Stark banner was also there but did not see the other northern houses or any from the Riverlands represented. Perhaps Renly considered the Stark direwolf as a representative of all of the men following Robb. According to Catelyn, even Edmure answered to their son now.

 

“Is this a war or a masquerade ball?” Ser Rodrik muttered under his breath.

 

“His Grace enjoys the finest,” Catelyn answered with an expression that showed her own misgivings. “It’s easy to forget that a good deal of the Riverlands are scorched and the people are starving.” She kept her voice low enough to escape Arya's notice; a glance confirmed that her daughter's attention was elsewhere. 

 

Ned said nothing, but hoped his sons were not being influenced by the excesses of the knights from the Reach newly under their command. He couldn’t imagine men like Lords Karstark and Umber amidst this type of opulence. If Robb allowed himself to be seduced by this type of behavior, he’d lose the respect of the northern lords. Loud laughter from the other side of the table caught his attention and he turned to see Mace Tyrell approaching with two other men.

 

Ned had met Renly’s Hand of the King before, when the northern forces had broken the siege at Storm’s End during Robert’s Rebellion. When he saw that Lord Tyrell had nearly doubled in size in the years following the war, Ned couldn’t help but remember the lords of the Reach feasting outside the keep while Stannis and his people starved inside. Renly had obviously forgotten those days.

 

Lord Tyrell acted as if he and Ned had never been on opposite sides as he enthusiastically welcomed him before introducing Ned, Catelyn, and Ser Rodrik to Lord Randyll Tarly and Lord Paxter Redwyne. He spoke to them for a few moments before excusing himself to speak to his son. Lord Tarly followed and Ser Rodrik moved to the table to sit with Smalljon Umber, who looked very uncomfortable in the formal setting. The Umbers were not known for their courtly manners.

 

“We have something rather unfortunate in common, Lord and Lady Stark,” Lord Redwyne said as his liege lord moved away. “My sons were hostages of the crown as well. His Grace worked to have them freed and I received word just before I left the Reach that they had successfully escaped by ship. I came here as soon as I knew they were safely out of the queen’s hands.”

 

“Did they have news of our daughter?” Catelyn asked. Though few would see through her perfectly calm demeanor, Ned knew his wife well enough to see her barely controlled worry for Sansa.

 

Lord Redwyne's reply faltered as he glanced down at Arya standing beside her parents.  Ned placed a hand on his younger daughter's shoulder and nodded toward Gendry, who sat in a far corner looking lost and shabby among the high-born lords and knights.  She darted away to join her young friend.

 

“Regretfully my sons did not say much, my lady,” Redwyne began once Arya was out of earshot. “But they did mention that she had been punished for some of your sons’ attacks in the Westerlands.”

 

“Punished?” Ned asked, his stomach knotting. “What manner of punishment?” Beside him, Catelyn tensed and clutched his arm.

 

Lord Redwyne shook his head. “I do not know, my lord. It was only a short message by raven. Perhaps the king has heard more news from his contacts in the capital. My son only mentioned that they feared the king would punish them publicly as well if I had shown support for King Renly.”

 

“It seems Joffrey has shown his brutal nature early on in his reign. The word is that even Cersei has lost control of him,” Renly said, as he joined them. “I intended to tell you at dinner that I have received a raven from one of my contacts, with news that Dacey Mormont and Daryn Hornwood plan to escape with Lady Sansa tomorrow. There is a ship in the harbor waiting for them already.”

 

“A ship? But however would a ship escape notice?” Ned asked. “Surely someone would ask questions about any ships lingering in the harbor, especially when they fear an attack from you or Stannis.”

 

“It’s a trader’s ship from Braavos, Lord Stark. I chose it because the captain frequently extends his stays in King’s Landing and has no fondness for the Lannisters. They've more than once seized and returned his ships and neglected to return the cargo with them, claiming it was illegally gained and threatening to have him charged with smuggling. As an honest merchant, the experience left him with a lingering bitterness,” Renly explained. “Luckily, I was in court long enough to know who the Lannisters offended, who could be trusted, and who were loyal to my brother even when he was too blind to see his enemies right before him.”

 

Margaery walked up beside her husband and put her arm on his, her voice gently admonishing him. “Your Grace, certainly Lord Stark would love nothing more than a good meal now. Gendry tells me they didn’t stop to eat mid-day today. “

  
“Of course, my beloved,” Renly said with a charming smile. “Please sit with me, Ned, and we’ll discuss these things further. I’m sure you’ll be very interested to know what your sons have been doing as well.”

 

Ned led Cat to the table and held out a chair for her. After he sat down beside her, she leaned close and said, “I think Arya would be interested in hearing about Robb as well, but she seems quite invested in what Ser Loras and Gendry are discussing. Perhaps it would best to leave her where I don’t have to worry that she’ll forget her courtesies.”

 

Mace Tyrell sat in between his daughter and Loras, leaving a buffer in case Arya forgot she was dining with the king and queen. Although Ned suspected Renly would not mind her outspoken nature, he did not know the queen well enough to assume the same. He nodded and replied, “I’m sure that Ser Loras will provide an animated retelling of any adventures he knows of.”

 

As the food was served and the wine began to flow, Ned turned to Renly and asked what his plans were for the Northmen. The king hesitated for a moment and Ned remembered that he was no longer the Warden of the North. He wasn’t even Lord of Winterfell any longer. Men still called him Lord Stark out of courtesy; it made him forget sometimes that his titles and lands had been stripped from him. 

 

Renly spoke quietly so that only Ned could hear him. “Right now, other than Lord Tarly’s men, Robb has control of the men of the Reach and the Northmen.  Ser Edmure Tully controls the Riverlords and he’s coordinating with Robb through his uncle, Ser Brynden, to make certain that while Robb’s men attack the Westerlands, Lord Tywin cannot come further south. Right now Tywin is garrisoned at Harrenhal and we must keep him there until I’ve dealt with Stannis. Then Robb will bring his armies to unite with mine and we will take King’s Landing.”

 

Ned thought for a moment, mentally laying out the armies in his mind. “How many men does Robb lead?”

 

“Close to seventy thousand men are with him and of those, roughly forty thousand are mounted, not counting those from the Riverlands,” Renly answered.

 

_My son is commanding a huge army, bigger than I ever expected. And he’s winning these battles._ Ned felt a sense of pride swelling in his chest.“Do you think that the Riverlords can hold Lord Tywin back? Even without Jaime, the Lannister army is much larger and more brutal than Edmure’s forces. If the Mountain breaks their line…”

 

“He’s already attempted it. Lord Mallister threw him back once and Ser Edmure threw him back again. His numbers are fewer since Tywin took half his forces when he marched against our decoy army at the Whispering Wood. The Mountain is retreating to Harrenhal as we speak. Lord Tywin has tried to send forces North but Lord Frey has blocked them from crossing.”

 

“How did Robb get the Late Lord Frey to allow his armies to cross?” Ned asked his wife, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

 

Catelyn looked a little uneasy as she explained. “He promised to give two of Lord Frey's younger sons titles and land in the North. I agreed to foster two of his grandsons at Winterfell. Lady Mormont promised to wed one of her daughters to one of his sons and Smalljon Umber and Wendel Manderly each agreed to marry one of Lord Frey’s daughters. And…” she paused and glanced over at Arya. “I agreed that Arya would marry Lord Frey's youngest son when they come of age as well. He would have asked for Robb to marry a daughter, I think, had Robb not offered his sons land and titles in the north.”

 

“I wouldn’t mention any of this to Arya any time soon,” Ned replied. “Robb arranged marriages for two sons and two daughters as well as lands and titles for two others: a very profitable arrangement for Lord Frey. I hope he continues to hold the Lannister forces away from the North and Moat Cailin. Did Robb send a messenger to Howland Reed that he was marching south?”

 

“He did, my lord. Lord Reed sent word that he would prevent any strangers from crossing unseen into the north,” Catelyn answered with a nod. “Lord Frey has assured us that they will not get past him, but if they do, the crannogmen will hold them. Jon Snow said they stopped him as he crossed Moat Cailin, only letting him pass when they realized who he was.”

 

Ned noticed that she didn’t frown as she usually did when the topic of Jon Snow came up. Turning back to Renly, he said, “Cat can tell me about the deeds that earned my sons their knighthood, Your Grace. But we would both like to hear more about the plans to rescue Sansa. It was also mentioned that you hoped that I could speak with Stannis when you meet him. I do not know what help I can give you, but I owe you many a debt and will help in any way that I can.”

 

“When it comes to Stannis, others have a better chance reasoning with him than I do, I fear,” Renly answered with a frown.

 

Ned sensed that Renly knew, though he might never admit it, that Stannis would never back down. But perhaps Renly had a fool’s hope that Stannis would value his brother’s life more than a crown. Stannis had driven Robert into a tirade more than once with his obstinate and unfailing ability to find insult at every turn. But Ned could hope Stannis would see reason and acknowledge that he couldn’t defeat Renly and Robb’s combined forces.

 

Catelyn studied Renly quietly for a moment before asking, “Your Grace, have you thought what you wish to do if he does not yield to you? He _is_ your brother…”

 

“Yes, Lady Stark, he is my brother. But I’ve come too far now to turn away from this path and too many people are depending on me now. I have to convince Stannis that the Lannisters are the real enemy, and that if he combines his men with my own, it’s best for both of us.” A shadow passed over Renly’s face as he took a sip of his wine. Ned noticed the subtle shaking of his hand. _He knows that in a few days he will have to fight his own brother and most likely kill him or die himself._

 

Catelyn glanced at Ned and he took her hand in his under the table. He prayed he could help Stannis see reason, for both their sake. He did not want Renly's reign – or, should it come to it, Stannis' – to begin with fratricide. Ned could not imagine killing Brandon or Benjen over the Iron Throne, unlikely as it was that any of them would want it. The North was their home. It was in their blood. And family meant more than power.

 

“Lord Stark, do you think it’s likely that Theon Greyjoy will be able to convince his father to supply ships to your son? Lord Greyjoy is not known for his willingness to negotiate with those he calls his enemies. I was surprised when I heard that your son had so much faith in your former ward to send him to enlist the aid of his father,” Mace Tyrell said from across the table.

 

The table grew quiet. Ned glanced quickly at Catelyn and saw by her frown that what Lord Tyrell said was the truth.

 

_Gods, Robb. What have you done?_

 

~*~

 

Dacey walked as briskly as she could through one of the back hallways, attempting to find a way to Lady Sansa’s chambers.  She hated to risk drawing attention to herself only a day before their planned escape, but Sansa had not left her rooms since Joffrey had ordered her beaten in court earlier that day.

 

As she came around the corner, Dacey nearly collided with an armored man; he grasped her arms to keep from knocking her over. She lowered her head and apologized as soon as she realized he was a knight of the Kingsguard. “Forgive me, ser.”

 

“Watch where you’re going,” he snarled, not releasing his grip on her arms. “Where _are_ you going? You’re not supposed to be in this hallway.”

 

Dacey raised her eyes enough to steal a glance at the man. It was not the knight that had been with Sansa in the Godswood recently, so it was likely he had never seen Dacey around Sansa. He was familiar, though. It took her a moment to realize he was the man who had beaten Sansa in court today. Swallowing back her anger, she said, “I apologize, Ser. I was returning to the Maidenvault and I must have taken the wrong hallway.”

 

“You are nowhere near the Maidenvault and you need not be anywhere near the Royal Apartments,” the knight said. “Must I escort you?”

 

“Yes, ser, if you would be so kind,” Dacey said with a glance at the man through lowered lashes. As the knight walked beside her, he grabbed her elbow roughly. Dacey’s mind whirled and her heart began racing as she tried to think of what she should do. She knew what she _wanted_ to do – though it would be a ridiculous risk to stab the man in the neck. Daryn would lecture her about her impulsiveness. But he wasn’t there. And Dacey ached for justice.

 

Just as she finally convinced herself to stay her hand, she noticed Lord Tyrion and his sellsword walking towards them. Lowering her face, Dacey avoided looking at the Imp.

 

“Ser Meryn, where are you taking this woman?” Lord Tyrion asked, blocking their path and studying Dacey.

 

“I’m escorting her away from the royal apartments. Apparently this one’s a fool and got lost on her way to the Maidenvault,” the knight said with a sneer.

 

Tyrion kept his eyes on her and not Ser Meryn as he declared, “I’ll escort the lady. Return to your post.”

 

The knight let her arm go and stalked away, leaving her alone with the Imp and the sellsword. _Damn him._ “If someone can just tell me, I’m certain I can find my own way back to my room. No need to trouble you further, my lord,” she said quickly and began walking away.

 

“You said your mother was from the north, did you not?” he asked quickly. She stopped, turning around with a nod. He watched her closely, _too closely_ ; his shrewd eyes studying her face “Hornwood, I believe?”

 

“Yes, my lord.” Dacey tried to remember everything she had told him before, so she wouldn’t admit to something she had never said. “But she hasn’t lived there since before I was born. We lived in the Riverlands before coming here.”

 

Tyrion began walking down the hall in the same direction she was going and she reluctantly walked at his side. “It’s unfortunate that Lord Hornwood was killed at the Battle of Green Fork. Did your mother know him?” Shocked into silence, Dacey shook her head. _Daryn’s father was dead. I must find him and tell him._ She shook her head and tried to appear unfazed as Tyrion continued. “I was at that battle. Of course, you must know by now that it was a ruse by Robb Stark and Renly Baratheon to distract us while Robb Stark’s main army captured my brother. Your father’s liege lord is a Lord Blackwood, isn’t he?”

 

“Yes, my lord.” Dacey’s mouth was so dry she could barely answer him. A lump rose in her throat as she tried to think of a way to escape this questioning; she sensed it going horribly wrong. The Imp was too clever.

 

“Even though they are in the Riverlands, House Blackwood has more in common with the Northmen. They are descendants of the First Men and still worship the Old Gods, do they not?”

 

“My father was not a pious man, but yes they do,” she replied. “You know a great deal about the North and the Riverlands, my lord.”

 

Lord Tyrion turned to her with a strange smile and said, “It’s always wise to know your opponent, don’t you agree? Otherwise, they could sneak right past you and catch you unawares. For example, earlier today I found out that two of our wards from the Reach had fled the city with help from servants loyal to Renly Baratheon, who may still be here, right under our noses. Who would have thought mere servants so brave to risk their own lives to rescue two boys? I wonder what the reward would be for that type of treason…and the punishment.”

 

“The punishment was rather severe for that other man. What was his name? Hammond?” the sellsword remarked with a frown. Dacey’s heart raced, beating so loudly it sounded like a drum pounding in her head. She thought of bolting away from both men, but she knew the sellsword would catch her before she got far.

 

Tyrion glanced over at her and nodded. “Being thrown into the black cells is always severe, but he might keep his head. My sister, the queen, has less patience now than she did when her only worry was her husband drinking himself into a stupor. Now there are men who claim her son’s throne and intend to lay siege to King’s Landing soon. Everyone comes under suspicion.”

 

Dacey stopped and turned to the man, schooling her features into what she hoped was innocence. “My lord…I do not know Lord Renly.” She _didn’t_ know Renly, so she could at least say that honestly. And honesty was always best.

 

Tyrion studied her in a silence for a moment before he nodded once. The sound of someone approaching distracted him and Dacey looked back to see a squire rushing up to them. He spoke quietly to the Imp for a moment. Tyrion sighed heavily. “You must excuse me, my lady. My sister demands my attention. Bronn, please take care of that other matter we discussed. Pod, escort the lady back to the Maidenvault.”

 

Dacey watched the Imp waddling away down the hall and took a deep breath. She could not believe her luck. The squire could barely look her in the face; he wouldn't be questioning her further. Unfortunately, despite the fact she was spared more questions, she hadn’t reached Sansa’s room and could not warn her about tomorrow. Daryn would have to do his part to calm Sansa before he took her.

 

~*~

 

“You’re a member of the Kingsguard?” Arya asked her. “King Renly knighted a woman?”

 

When Arya finished eating her food, she had grown bored with the conversations around her and turned to study Brienne standing guard behind her. It appeared to be the first time she realized that she was a woman.  

 

“No, my lady. I’m a member of the Kingsguard but I am not a knight,” she answered in a quiet voice, trying not to be overheard by others at the table. Whenever she was on duty, she tried to fade into the background, at least as much as a giant woman in armor could.

 

“But the Kingsguard are supposed to be the best soldiers and knights in the king’s command,” Arya answered, turning around fully in her seat. “You must be one of the best or you wouldn’t be guarding him.”

 

“I suppose…”

 

“So he should knight you even if you are a woman. I’m Arya of House Stark.”

 

Brienne almost smiled but caught herself. Arya was exactly as outspoken as her brother had said. “I am Brienne of Tarth. And I have heard quite a bit about you, Lady Arya, from your bother Ser Jon.” Lowering her voice, she leaned forward and said, “He also told me that he gave you your blade. I believe you named it Needle.”

 

“You know my brother? He must trust you if he told you that. I don’t think he told anyone else.” Arya smiled widely. “Don’t tell my mother and father. Even though Father let me keep it, I’m not certain how Mother will feel about it. And neither would approve of Jon giving it to me. In King’s Landing, Father allowed me to take lessons from Syrio Forel, former First Sword of Braavos. And…” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening. When she turned around her face was more somber. “I had to use Needle to protect myself.”

 

Brienne studied her for a moment, seeing clearly how deeply affected Arya was by having had to fight for her life. At her age, she should never have been in that position, but the fact she had not only protected herself but also managed to escape the king’s men on her own while her father was in prison was impressive. “A weapon is meant to protect yourself and others,” Brienne answered carefully. She wasn’t well-versed in talking with children and didn’t want to say the wrong thing. “I am certain you only did what you needed to do.”

 

Arya nodded, chewing her lip. “I wish I was able to continue my training from Syrio but he died protecting me.”

 

Brienne swallowed back the lump in her throat. She had become very fond of Jon Snow and his unfailing kindness to her, and knew that along with Robb Stark, Arya Stark was one of the two people he loved most in the world. Seeing the sadness in Arya’s face and knowing how Jon had feared for his little sister made Brienne feel unexpected emotions. She admired the bond Jon appeared to have with his siblings as well as the love that Renly still felt for his brother, Robert. And the Tyrell brothers and the queen shared a special bond that Brienne had watched with a little bit of envy. Brienne had always been alone, having lost all of her siblings before she was Arya’s age. Like Jon and Renly, she grew up without a mother. Perhaps that was why they were more accepting of her than other men had been. She didn’t know.

 

Suddenly Arya’s eyes lit up and she exclaimed, “I can continue my lessons if you teach me! I’m sure Father will agree to it. After all, you’re a friend of Jon’s.” 

 

Before Brienne could even reply, Arya jumped up and rushed to the other side of the table, where her father was discussing something with her mother in hushed tones. Arya came up on the other side of her father, apparently not wishing for her mother to hear what she was saying, and began talking excitedly and gesturing to Brienne. Color rushed to Brienne's cheeks as Renly turned to listen to what Arya was saying. With quite a bit of amusement, he spoke to Lord Stark and seemed to be supporting what Arya had said. Brienne shifted her weight back and forth, wishing that Arya had at least waited until after the dinner was over. Lord Stark appeared to be trying to get his daughter to calm down and Renly laughed aloud before calling Brienne over to them.

 

When she reached the king’s side, she bowed her head to him before he spoke. “Lady Brienne, this is Lord and Lady Stark and I believe you know their daughter, Arya.” Lady Stark turned and looked up at the mention of her name. She smiled kindly at Brienne. Although they had seen each other in passing many times at Riverrun, they had not spoken as of yet.

 

“Yes, Your Grace. I spoke with Lady Arya briefly.”

 

Lord Stark rose to his feet and nodded his head to her as he rested his hands on his daughter’s shoulders. He reminded her of Jon, but even more quiet and guarded than his son had been. The grey eyes showed kindness and the protective way he held his daughter showed his clear affection for his youngest girl.

 

“It seems that Lady Arya insists that of all the soldiers in my command, only you can possibly continue her ‘dancing’ lessons until her brothers can teach her,” Renly said dramatically. “She has also informed me that I should knight you despite the fact you’re a woman.”

 

“Arya!” Lady Stark exclaimed, looking quite scandalized, as Brienne blushed various shades of red.

 

“No, no, Lady Stark,” Renly replied, holding his hand up. “Lady Arya is quite right. I have been remiss in this duty. She should have been knighted long ago. Unfortunately, I do not think that Lady Brienne knows Braavosi Water Dancing. But I do think she could teach you other manners of fighting if Lord and Lady Stark approve.”

 

Lady Stark glanced at her daughter and shook her head before looking up at her husband. “Ned…”

 

“If Lady Brienne is willing and has the time to spare, then I do not see the harm in it,” Lord Stark spoke in a quiet voice but with great authority. “But Arya must agree that she will only practice when there are no other duties her mother wishes her to do and she will not interfere with Lady Brienne’s duties to you, Your Grace.”

 

“I promise,” Arya agreed quickly. “Will you do it, Lady Brienne? Please?”

 

With four pairs of eyes now on her, Brienne first glanced to the king. At his encouraging smile, she nodded and said, “Of course, Your Grace, Lord Stark. It would be an honor.”

 

Lady Stark looked stricken but forced a smile as Arya threw her arms around her father’s waist. Brienne grew concerned in the face of Lady Stark’s disapproval, but when she felt Arya throw her arms around her own waist, she felt a strange affection for the girl. After hugging Brienne, Arya appeared almost ready to hug the king but her father put a restraining hand on her shoulder and she glanced at him quickly. Seeing his almost imperceptible shake of his head, she faced Renly and dropped into a clumsy curtsy, saying, “My gratitude, Your Grace.”

 

Renly reached over and tousled her short hair before answering, “You are completely welcome, Lady Arya. Perhaps one day you will grow up to guard my children.” 

 

~*~

 

Tyrion entered his sister’s chambers and found her pacing back and forth in front of the window.

 

“What took you so long?” she snapped with a glare.

 

“My stunted legs, I’m sure. What has you in such a state?” Tyrion walked over to a table and poured himself a goblet of wine. Before he could even take a sip, Cersei snatched it from his hand and took a large swig of it.

 

While he was pouring himself another goblet, she said, “The servant in Renly’s employ said there was a plot to get Sansa Stark out of the capital. There are Northmen inside our very walls ready to snatch the brat the moment our back is turned.”

 

Tyrion thought for a moment before asking, “Northmen? Or northern _women_?”

 

“Does it matter? They are planning to take her! Renly is behind Ned Stark’s escape, Stark’s sons are raiding Father’s lands with most of Renly’s troops while he makes peace with Stannis, and we have the filthy savages amongst us waiting to strike. I want the number of Kingsguard with Joffrey doubled at all times. Sansa Stark should be guarded at every moment as well. If she escapes, they will execute Jaime. Damn Renly Baratheon and Ned Stark to the deepest of the seven hells!” she spat.

 

Tyrion furrowed his brows watching her. She was losing control more than usual.  Hopefully she hadn’t spoken to Joffrey about this matter or Sansa Stark would no doubt suffer more abuse. “Yes, Cersei, it does matter if they are women or men. We won’t be able to find them if we don’t know who we’re looking for.” He didn’t mention that he suspected that he had just left one of the northern spies. “I will speak to this man and perhaps he can give me a description of these northerners in the capital.”

 

“Doubtful,” Cersei replied casually. “I had him hung for treason.”

 

Tyrion clenched his fists, trying to calm himself. “You are an absolute bloody fool, my sweet sister. Between you and Joffrey, our enemies don’t need to do anything to defeat us. You’ve just destroyed any chance we had to find the northerners _before_ they make their attempt. You allowed Ned Stark and the youngest Stark daughter to slip through your fingers, Jaime allowed himself to be captured, and Joffrey is murdering babies in the street while his people starve. The Northmen need only wait for the next golden Lannister blunder.” 

 

Cersei glared at him but said nothing for a few moments as she sipped her wine. Eventually, she said, “Varys tells me the Stark boy sent his father’s ward home to the Iron Islands to gather support for Balon Greyjoy.”

 

Tyrion couldn’t resist a chuckle at the thought of Balon Greyjoy working with the Starks.

 

“He has an unmarried daughter,” Cersei said, fixing her gaze on his. When he didn’t answer, she continued, “If we were to offer his daughter a betrothal to the richest family in Westeros, perhaps we could count on their support. They have more ships than even Redwyne. We could use them to defend the city.”

 

Completely stunned that his devious, cut-throat sister had become so horribly incompetent at this game, Tyrion shook his head. “Have you forgotten that the only family Balon Greyjoy hates more than the Starks are the Baratheons? And Joffrey is a Baratheon. Or so you’re claiming. Besides, Joffrey is betrothed to Sansa Stark, and Tommen is too young.”

 

Cersei's lips turned up into a predatory smile before she said, “I was thinking _you_ could marry her, brother. Now that his son has been returned, he will inherit the Iron Islands. And if they help us defeat the Stannis and Renly as well as the Starks, then Joffrey will make you the new Warden of the North which you will rule with the Lady Greyjoy.”

 

It was the first time Cersei had ever made Tyrion speechless.


	10. Chapter 9

 

_A/N Thanks to the lovely Vlad for the beta work! :) I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you **SO** much for the great reviews!_

**Chapter 9**

 

Pretending to focus on the fire, Theon watched his father through lowered lashes as Balon studied the map of the north. Balon Greyjoy had just revealed his plans to raid the north and Theon was trying to decide how he could warn Robb or if he even should. His homecoming had done nothing to help his conflicted loyalties.

 

Robb’s trust in Theon had so far proved unique; his father and sister didn’t share it, nor did most of the Northmen he had left behind.  Worse yet, Asha had their father wrapped around her finger, and judging by her cocky smirk, she knew it.

 

“Victarion has taken half the Iron Fleet to invade Moat Cailin and Aeron has taken the other half to capture Deepwood Motte. Asha, you will take a dozen ships and have your men attack Torrhen’s Square. Once Winterfell hears of the attack, they will send what few men they have left to retake it,” Balon said, glancing up at his children. “And that is when you and your brother will capture Winterfell. Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon killed my sons. I will take Stark’s sons, his castle, and all else.”

 

“It’s Robb’s castle now…” Theon muttered, still stunned by his father’s risky plans. When his father shot him a glare, he said louder, “The only sons remaining at Winterfell are Bran and Rickon. They’re merely children. Rickon is practically a baby and Bran is crippled. It hardly seems right.”

 

“It will only make it that much easier. Let’s see how they fare on the Iron Islands,” Asha smirked. “What’s wrong, little brother? Do you worry for the young wolves? Or do you fear the big ones that will see your betrayal and come yapping at your heels?”

 

“Lord Stark will never allow us to hold Winterfell long, especially if we hold two of his children. This mission is suicide,” Theon replied through gritted teeth. “I know this family, I know the people in Winterfell and the North. They won’t allow you to just _take_ Bran and Rickon. And it’s unnecessary. Just take the castles and lands along the coast. Or march east and take White Harbor. It’s their richest port. Lord Manderly sent most of his men with Robb.”

 

Balon studied him in silence for a moment before he walked around the table to stand before him. “You’ve become one of them, just as I feared. I should send you back to Robb Stark so he’ll know you failed, but now that you know our plans I can’t risk…”

 

“I am _not_ one of them,” Theon declared, his voice rising in anger. “But it doesn’t mean I think its right to brutalize _children_. I remember what it was like to be taken from my home. Unlike you, Lord Stark will fight to get his sons back!” Theon heard his own words and realized his mistake a split second too late; his father struck him with enough force to send him staggering against the table. His mind raced, searching for solutions. He wiped the blood from his mouth and, at last, eyed his father warily as he spoke again. “I am a Greyjoy. I will do as you command. I know how to take Winterfell and I won’t need Asha’s help. She can stay with her men in Torrhen's…”

 

“Your sister has proven herself capable and loyal. I trust her to do as I bid. When you take the castle, she will send the two Stark boys back to me. Let Lord Stark feel the pain of losing his children. Robb Stark won’t be able to move north to the rescue once we hold Moat Cailin. Ned Stark is on his way to the Wall, and as long as we have his children, he won’t dare risk an attack. There will be no one to stop us. Winterfell and the greater part of the North will be ours,” his father replied.

 

Asha’s face was unreadable. Would she do it? Kidnap two children and send them to their father as hostages? Theon realized he hardly knew his family after all this time. Looking at them both now, he felt like a stranger. _I’m not a Stark and I’m not a Greyjoy. Who am I?_

 

Theon had to go along with his father’s plans. He had to gain his trust. It was the only way he could ensure that no harm came to Bran and Rickon. Once he and Asha reached Torrhen's Square, he could try to persuade her to march on White Harbor instead.

 

He rose to his full height and looked his sister in the eye. “Asha, the only way to conquer Winterfell is to scale the walls or go through the secret tunnels. I doubt any of the tunnels are still passable; they haven’t been used in centuries. Bring men who can climb or they’re of no use to us.” Asha hesitated, but did not object. When at last she nodded, Theon turned to his father. “I’ll help win Winterfell for you, Father.”

 

“Send me Lord Stark’s sons and we’ll _both_ have our revenge.”

~*~

 

Jon stood by Robb’s side before a large map, with Ser Garlan and Ser Brynden on the other side of the table.  After the victory at Oxcross, Robb had easily taken Ashemark then sent Lord Umber and Ser Baelor Hightower to capture the gold mines at Castamere, Nunn’s Deep, and Pendric Hills. Lord Karstark and Ser Edmund Ambrose had led their men to raid the coast. The Westerlands couldn’t resist the Northmen and the might of the Reach.

 

“Robett Glover and Lady Mormont will lead their men along this path here to take Lannisport.” Robb gestured to the small curvy line on the map and glanced up at Ser Garlan. “They will attempt to take the ship’s captains hostage. We need as many of them alive as possible. We’ll take their ships to prepare for His Grace’s assault on King’s Landing.”

 

“Send any men with them who have any experience commanding a ship,” Robb added. “We need to control that harbor for when the Ironborn join our cause.” Jon could see Ser Garlan’s skepticism, though he had the good grace not to voice it. Robb muttered aloud, “ _If_ they join our cause.”

 

“Some of the captains in Lannisport will likely burn their ships before they’ll allow Lord Glover and Lady Mormont to take them,” Garlan warned. “But with Lord Redwyne’s fleet as well, the rest will be enough. Once we’ve secured Lannisport, my brother will send extra men to bring the ships to the Reach.

 

“The rest of us will take Silverhill and the Tooth, leaving men to prevent Tywin from returning to the west.” Robb glanced at Ser Brynden. “Edmure must prevent the Lannisters from crossing the Riverlands.” He paused and glanced back at the map. “Perhaps we should also bring Roose Bolton’s remaining forces further south through the Twins and Seagard.”

 

Jon glanced at him with surprise. “That would leave Moat Cailin with only a small force of archers to protect the North from Tywin…”

 

“Tywin won’t march north,” Robb answered dismissively. “I’ll send a raven to Lord Manderly. He can send more men to re-enforce Moat Cailin. Lord Reed is already protecting the North and Lord Frey is preventing Tywin from crossing at the Twins.”

 

“Even if Tywin doesn’t send men north, who will protect the rest of the North from the ironborn and the wildlings? Who will prepare for the coming winter if all of their men are in this war?” Jon asked in a quiet voice.  He could see the doubt in Robb’s eyes. “Winterfell itself is secure enough, but what of the other houses? The smallfolk? There are not enough men, and their leader is a _child_. Bran cannot hold the North by himself.”

 

Lately Jon had had a hard time getting his brother to see that Renly’s goals might interfere with the best interests of the Riverlands and the North.  Some of the Riverlords had already lost their lands and holdfasts when they were protecting Riverrun and preventing Tywin Lannister from giving chase.

 

Anger and exasperation flashed in Robb’s eyes, his mouth tightening grimly in a way that reminded Jon of Lady Stark. He looked back at the map for a long time before answering. “The ironborn won’t be a problem,” Robb insisted quietly, still staring at the map. Jon bit his tongue, wishing his brother would see what was clear to everyone in the tent. “But perhaps you’re right about the North. I’ll leave Bolton’s forces where they are for now. If Lady Arryn would send forces from the Vale…” He glanced up at Ser Brynden.

 

“My lord, I do not think my niece can be persuaded to join this fight. She refused aid to her own sister when the Lannisters threw your father in prison, and ignored our requests when the Lannisters besieged Riverrun, her own father inside and her brother a prisoner. A war to support another king would not stir her. She is too frightened.”

 

“As long as she doesn’t join Lord Tywin, we still outnumber his forces five to one,” Ser Garlan pointed out.

 

Ser Brynden shook his head. “No chance of that. Lysa fears them too much. She won’t join with them.”

 

Robb nodded, still looking at the map. Jon was surprised he didn’t have it memorized by now; he spent hours studying it. His brother rarely slept or ate anymore, focused as he was on commanding such a huge army. He’d stare at the map, moving the pieces that represented each group of his men, debating contingencies or discussing plans with various commanders. Jon joined Lady Mormont and her daughters for a few days to lead livestock from the Westerlands to their camp then some of the Freys took them the rest of the way into the Riverlands. Robb wanted to assist the small-folk who had lost their crops and livestock during the burning in the Riverlands. 

 

Ned Stark had taught all of his children of their responsibilities to the people of the north, no matter their status. All of the houses had to work together to survive the long harsh winters. There were very lean periods in Jon and Robb’s lifetime, but the Starks knew how to ration their food and supplies throughout the winter.

 

“I’d like to send some men to secure the Crag and cut off the Gold Road to Casterly Rock as well. We cannot yet take Casterly Rock itself, but we can prevent the Lannisters from gathering their scattered forces there,” Ser Garlan suggested. “Perhaps Ser Ryman could do that? If his son, Black Walder, holds the Crag and Ser Ryman guards the Gold Road, Emmon Frey will no doubt remain silently within Casterly Rock with his wife and not attempt to gather more men for his liege lord.”

 

Jon made a noise of disapproval and shook his head slightly at Robb who nodded in agreement. “No, if the Frey loyalties were tested, I have as good a chance at losing all of the Freys as Tywin did since quite a few of the Freys married into the Lannister family. No. Valuable as they are to us, I don’t think the Frey loyalties bear testing. Send Roger and Rickard Ryswell. The Crag is half in ruins and Lord Westerly was captured in the Whispering Wood; it will not take many men to secure the castle.”

 

“My lord…is there any value to taking the Crag at all?” Ser Brynden asked. “It’s unlikely they have more than the castle garrison stationed there. Their mines no longer produce anything. They’re an old family, but they have more pride than power.”

 

Robb sat down and Jon could see the exhaustion on his face. He wondered how long it had been since he’d slept. “We’ll revisit that after we secure the more important targets. Once we hold Lannisport and the Golden Tooth, Tywin will be cut off from the West,” Robb agreed with a sigh. “Everyone needs to be prepared to march in two days time. Ser Brynden, Ser Garlan, please relay my orders.”

 

After a murmuring of consent, Ser Garlan and the Blackfish departed, leaving Robb alone with Jon. The two were quiet for a moment before Robb said, “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’m a fool for continuing to have any hope that Theon will not betray me.” He didn’t bother looking at Jon as he spoke and his voice had a tone of resolution to it.

 

“Do you truly still believe in him?” Jon asked cautiously. He didn’t want Robb to know that he thought it was foolish to have trusted Theon in the first place.

 

“I want to,” Robb answered. “I don’t want to make the same mistake Father made in King’s Landing, but Theon is not like Lord Baelish. Our father raised him in our house, taught him honor.”

 

“And Lord Baelish was raised by your grandfather beside your mother and uncle, learning the same rules of honor as well. Perhaps honor is more of a choice than we realized.” Jon stretched his legs out in front of him. He was eager to be on the march soon. He didn’t like to remain in the camp for long.

 

“Theon was the first person willing to fight by my side when we had to go to war. I know you two have never gotten along, but when you left, he and I were practically inseparable. He’s not my brother by blood but he is like a brother to me.”

 

Jon tried to ignore the stab of jealousy. After all, Jon considered Sam his brother just as much. The difference is that Robb knew how Theon treated Jon and Sam would never be cruel to Robb or anyone else. Theon had mocked Jon since he and Robb were only small children. He called him ‘Bastard’ whenever Jon’s father was out of his hearing. If they’d see the one of the older whores in the winter town, Theon would jape that one was old enough to be his mother so he best not bed her just in case. Or if a woman in the winter town stared too long at Jon, Theon would tease that she could be his mother, but she was too scared to speak to him.

 

Jon had a scar from knee to ankle where Theon had convinced Robb and Jon to climb a tree in the Wolfswood then he shook the branches until Jon fell, cutting his leg on the way down. Jon never told his father what happened but Robb knew. He constantly told Theon to leave off Jon and would grow angry enough to stop speaking to Theon for days. As he got older, Jon was able to fight back on the training grounds, which was how he became a better swordsman: taking out all of his anger with relentless practicing, often dueling with Theon and beating the ward until he yielded.  However badly Theon had treated him, once Jon had left for the Wall, Theon had taken his place at Robb’s side.

 

“I received a raven from Father confirming he and Arya are safely with the king’s party now,” Robb announced. “Along the way out of King’s Landing, Father found one of King Robert’s bastards. Renly has thought to legitimize him or one of the others as his heir until the queen is with child.”

 

“Wonderful.  And by the time a bastard moves in to steal the throne away from all the other “heirs,” there will be more men bleeding for control of the Seven Kingdoms than there were during the Blackfyre Rebellions.” Jon couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice.

 

Robb turned to him quickly. “I don’t think either of Robert’s bastard sons would be Renly’s heir if the queen is pregnant with his legitimate…”

 

“Robert was the king. Renly and Stannis are his brothers and we are loyal to the youngest one, not the _legitimate_ heir. Robert’s sons _should_ be his heirs, but because they are bastards, they won’t inherit. I understand. That’s the way it’s always been. But then, some lord or king comes along and legitimizes the wrong bastard and all bastards are deemed unworthy of trust. Yet high born wards of _traitors_ are considered more worthy than bastards. Considering I’m a bastard of a man convicted of treason, I must be the worst sort of man.”  Jon rose to his feet quickly, storming from the tent to get away from his brother. Ghost followed on Jon’s heels, a silent shadow.

 

He knew his anger was misdirected; it wasn’t Robb’s fault that the world was this way. But Robb’s refusal to see the truth about Theon made matters that much worse. Why couldn’t he sense that Theon deserved no more of his trust or faith? Jon didn’t tell him that Father had also sent Jon a raven and stressed that Jon needed to attempt to get through to Robb about Theon. Father also said that he must speak with Jon as soon as they could see each other and Jon felt sure it had to do with learning who his mother is.

 

Seeing some of the men drinking and throwing dice, Jon grabbed a full flagon of wine and walked off into the darkness. He was not fit company now for anyone but Ghost. At Castle Black, when he felt like this, he would go to the top of Wall and stare to the north, wondering what was out there, sometimes even wishing that he could ride out to explore with only Ghost as his companion. 

 

Thinking back to the raven from his father, Jon frowned. While Jon wanted to know about his mother, part of him was afraid to know. How would he feel if she had been a whore? Would it hurt any less if she was a high born lady that had willingly gave up her son? Deep down Jon knew that his biggest fear was that his father had deemed his mother good enough to share his bed, but not good enough to raise a son, even a bastard boy, of Lord Stark.

 

Long ago, when they were children, Theon had told Jon that everyone in Winterfell knew that his mother was the Lady Ashara Dayne. Supposedly she had thrown herself from a tower rather than live with the shame of her dishonor. Theon had smirked, saying that she chose to die rather than raise him.

 

It was the one and only time that Jon had run away from Winterfell. Robb had led Jory to one of their many favorite places in the Wolfswood two days later where they found a cold and hungry Jon. It was one of the few times that his father had openly expressed his love for Jon, hugging him tightly when Jory brought him home. He made Jon promise to never do it again. Jon had promised but refused to tell Father or Robb what had upset him. A day later, an insistent Robb dragged him to the Godswood and demanded that Jon swear in blood before the weirwood tree that if he ever ran again, he would take Robb with him. Even Sansa had been nicer to him for a few days, sitting beside him at supper each night and asking him if he was all right. Theon glared daggers at him and swore if Jon told Lord Eddard, Theon would beat him. At the time, Theon had weighed at least two stone more than Jon so he frequently tried to intimidate him. But Jon didn’t tell his father, not for fear of Theon, but fear his father would confirm its truth.

 

~*~

 

Renly grew quiet watching Brienne and Loras sparring with Arya and Gendry, a faint smile on his face. Ned studied the young king, wondering if he could truly rule. They had spent the last few hours discussing Stannis’ claim and how they could possibly convince him to join with Renly. One thing Ned was sure of Renly would be a better king than Robert had been, and almost certainly better than Stannis as well. The smallfolk disliked Stannis, which was more than justified, and now he worshipped a new god, one that required that he burned the symbols of all other gods, Ned could not imagine that would win Stannis any loyalty from the majority of Westeros.

 

“She’s very good,” Renly remarked, glancing over at Ned. “When she’s grown, you might have a problem convincing her to marry and have children instead of leading men into battle.”

 

Ned turned to observe Arya. His daughter was more skilled than Gendry, and he saw the lessons of Syrio in her style: graceful, swift, and fluid, but fierce as the wild direwolf that lingered nearby. Despite everything Arya had suffered in King’s Landing, or possibly because of it, she had grown to be fearless. Even now, Arya absorbed all of Brienne’s teaching and combined it with her existing knowledge, making her movements more unpredictable and dangerous. She had even caught Brienne and Loras off guard a number of times, despite her small stature.

 

Beside him, Catelyn looked on, her mouth tight. Ned knew that she didn’t approve of Arya’s training, but Ned would not deny her, as his father had done with Lyanna. Perhaps Arya would grow bored with it if he allowed her to get her fill of it now. For the time being, though, the smile on her face whenever Gendry yielded or Brienne praised her warmed his heart. It was good to see that she still retained her childlike joy in such troubling times.

 

His worry now lay with his other children. He had sent ravens to all of his sons last night after the feast. All of Renly’s men had expressed doubt over Robb’s decision to send Theon home to Pike. Robb had underestimated Balon Greyjoy’s hatred for Ned and Robert. He would not help his heirs. And Ned feared Theon knew too much about the north and Winterfell and could expose their weaknesses to Balon.

 

“Your Grace, with your permission, I would like to send the men from Winterfell with the Night's Watch recruits. The ship could return them to White Harbor before sailing on to Eastwatch,” he said. Catelyn turned to Ned with concern. “I worry that perhaps there are those who will take advantage of the limited men in the north. My son Bran is only ten, and while he has good advisors, I’d feel more comfortable sending Ser Rodrik and some of the other men back to Winterfell.”

 

Renly hesitated ever so slightly and Ned could see that the king was trying to determine how to answer his request. At last he turned to Ned, saying, “It’s a complicated situation with Robb being Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North while you still live. Everyone knows that Joffrey had no right to strip you of your lands and titles.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “However, Robb commands the greater part of my army. He’s captured the Kingslayer and has Tywin Lannister completely pinned north of the Trident. He’s done much better than I ever expected. It would be a horrible disservice to him to usurp him by allowing you to overrule his decisions. Forgive me, but I cannot allow you to counter-command Robb’s orders for his men.”

 

Ned was silent, torn between respect for Renly’s leadership and anger at his denial. His men… _Robb’s_ men were loyal to the Starks and Robb would want Winterfell safe, but he was blinded by his loyalty to Theon.

 

“Your Grace,” Catelyn spoke courteously, despite the irritation that Ned knew she felt. “If I wished to return to Winterfell, could Ser Rodrik and some of the men escort me?” Her very diplomatic solution was still transparent, and Renly frowned, turning to watch the sparring before them again.

 

“I’m not certain that would be safe for you, my lady,” Ned replied, reaching down and squeezing her hand.

 

“Once we know the results of the meeting with Stannis, we will work out plans for the future. Soon, I intend to send men to Duskendale to ensure that Tywin cannot come to the rescue of King’s Landing.  With Roose Bolton in the North, Tywin will have nowhere left to run and once I take the capital, we can rout the remaining Lannisters at our leisure. Perhaps I’ll give Casterly Rock to one of my most loyal and allow Tywin to remain in Harrenhal if he wishes to live.” Renly gave a joyful laugh before rising and walking out to where Ser Loras and Gendry sparred.

 

“He’s a fool,” Catelyn muttered under her breath.

 

“King’s Landing will require a siege and if he thinks he can keep the Lannister forces in the Riverlands with your brother’s armies and a handful of his own men, he grossly underestimates Lord Tywin,” Ned admitted, his voice soft enough that so no one could overhear the two of them.

 

“Look at them, playing at war.” Catelyn clucked her tongue in disapproval. “It’s all one big tournament to them. Even Arya is more serious than they are. She knows that this will not last. They are the knights of summer and winter is coming.”

 

Ned watched Renly laughing with the two younger men and remembered once again how young the king was. Men in the North grew up faster, with their hard way of life; even though Renly was older than Ned had been during Robert’s Rebellion and older than Robb now, he still had the ignorance of a child when it came to wars. After Robert had risen to power, Renly’s life had been blessed with little responsibility and excessive luxuries.

 

“Aye. Winter is coming,” he agreed.

 

~*~

 

As Daenerys waited for word of the battle, Ser Barristan told her stories of her brother, keeping her mind distracted. He had already told her about the tournament at Harrenhal but nevertheless, she asked him more about it.

 

“It saddens me that my father had his own future killer named to the Kingsguard that day. Then Rhaegar crowned Lyanna Stark his Queen of Love and Beauty there as well. That tournament sparked the events that would end with me exiled here as an infant, with only Viserys left to me.” she mused aloud. Remembering something Ser Jorah had said, she asked, “Is it true that Lady Ashara Dayne was close to Princess Elia? Ser Jorah told me that there were rumors that Ned Stark’s bastard son is her child.” Dany was surprised to see anger in Ser Barristan’s face.

 

“Ser Jorah speaks out of turn, Your Grace. He shouldn’t disrespect her memory by besmirching her honor! Lady Dayne was a lady and should be spoken of as such,” the old knight declared passionately. Perhaps regretting his tone, he added, “Forgive me, Your Grace. I meant no disrespect.”

 

“No, forgive me, Ser Barristan. I see you thought highly of Lady Dayne.”

 

“Yes. She was a great beauty and kind, the brightest jewel of Starfall.” Looking somewhat embarrassed he turned the conversation back to Ned Stark. “As you know, I grew to respect Lord Stark in his time as Hand of the King. He is an honorable man…”

 

“Who nonetheless fathered a bastard with someone,” Dany pointed out. Despite her gradual acceptance that the Starks were not the enemies she thought they were, she still couldn’t force away all of her doubts about Ned Stark and his wife. Catelyn Tully‘s family fought side by side with Lord Stark and Robert Baratheon to topple her family’s dynasty. Ned Stark had at least shown some virtue in his objection to the grisly deaths of her niece and nephew, but even that was a small thing against the rest of his crimes. “Ser Barristan, I meant no slur against the Lady Dayne. I merely wish to understand more about the Starks since you want to ally me with them. How can I trust Robb Stark if I do not know what type of man he is? How can I trust that his half-brother will not stab him in the back and side with our enemies and, therefore, dividing the Northmen? If he is the son of a beloved Dornish woman, bastard or not, they will rally to his side and not mine. Elia Martell was their kin and they wish to avenge her and her children.”

 

Ser Barristan lowered his head for a few moments, studying the pommel of his sword. Finally, looked up and faced her. “Perhaps the rumors of Lord Stark and Lady Dayne began after he brought his bastard home to Winterfell. But the rumors in King’s Landing were of a different sort. The tale there was that it was _Brandon_ Stark who dishonored her at Harrenhal. Upon learning of the death of her beloved brother, Ser Arthur, and her friend Princess Elia, Lady Dayne was distraught and when her child was stillborn, she threw herself into the sea. It was a great tragedy.”

 

Dany realized too late that Ser Barristan was more than fond of Ashara Dayne. Quickly, she changed the topic to the Stark daughters. “If Stark’s eldest daughter is to marry Joffrey Baratheon, why would her brother risk anything to ally with me?”

 

“I do not know that he will. I have been gone from Westeros for some time and I do not know what has happened in my absence. Perhaps the king has freed the Stark girl. I do not even know what Ned Stark’s fate was in the end,” Ser Barristan admitted. “I thought perhaps we should send word to arrange a meeting but I did not know you intended to take Yunkai.”

 

“I will be little good to Robb Stark until I have enough ships to cross the Narrow Sea,” she pointed out. “Yunkai is a rich city, full of slaves. I will take what we need and leave the slaves that followed from Astapor here. They can rule the city side-by-side as free men.”

 

Missandei burst into the tent breathing heavily, and bowed low before Daenerys. “Your Grace, there are men coming from the east!”

 

“How is that possible? Why didn’t the scouts see them sooner?” Dany said as she rose to her feet. Ser Barristan had already started toward through the tent flaps.

 

“Your Grace, they carry dragon banners,” Missandei said and Dany’s chest grew tight with anxiety.

 

She waited for Ser Barristan to return, knowing he would prevent her from leaving the tent until he knew who these men served. She heard the sounds of the horses coming closer and guessed there were at least one hundred mounted men. Missandei’s eyes were wide.

 

Finally Ser Barristan returned, a confused and stunned expression on his face. “Your Grace, the men have sent a messenger ahead. They claim they are our allies and are part of the Golden Company.”

 

Dany’s mouth curled up in disgust. “Blackfyre sellswords? They laughed in my brother’s face when he spoke of acquiring their services and they dare carry a Targaryen banner? I should send my children to greet them.”

 

“Your Grace, they say they are in service to Aegon Targaryen VI and their captain is Jon Connington,” Ser Barristan added.

 

Cold rage filled her. “Rhaegar’s son died in the Sack of King’s Landing, as you well know, Ser Barristan. The Golden Company is backing another pretender to take advantage of Robert’s death.” His pause grew too long and Dany studied him closely. “Ser Barristan, if there is something you are keeping from me…”

 

“Your Grace, I am not keeping anything from you but mere rumor and hearsay. The Spider told me that Jon Connington was not dead and that if I could not find you, I should seek him out under the name Griff. I thought nothing of it, given the source but it’s possible that he spoke the truth. If Jon Connington is commanding these men… he was your brother’s closest friend, Khaleesi. It is said he died loyal to Rhaegar.”

 

“But he _died_ , as did Aegon. And if he did live and remained loyal to Rhaegar, why did Jon Connington not attempt to give aid to Viserys and me?”

 

“I do not know. Perhaps we should ask him.” Ser Barristan offered. “His men haven’t ridden all the way into the camp. Two ride ahead of them, likely to meet with you. Do you wish me to make them wait until the Unsullied return?”

 

“No, I don’t want to insult them and provoke an attack. I will meet with them.” She turned and walked to the raised dais and sat down on the padded bench there. Her dragons were perched nearby, their eyes half hooded as they rested.

 

Two Unsullied led in two men, one young, one old, both with blue hair. Dany’s attention was immediately drawn to the younger man. His violet eyes studied her curiously. He was near her age, tall, and lanky. There were enough similarities in his face to Viserys that it gave her chills. More than anything, though, he looked like the vision of Rhaegar she had seen in the House of the Undying.

 

“Kneel before Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Shackles,” Missandei announced in a clear voice.

 

The older man knelt immediately but the young man raised an eyebrow and smirked. “My apologies, Aunt Daenerys, but as the rightful king to the Iron Throne, I will not kneel before you. But as a show of my respect and desire to ally with you, I will take _one_ knee as your equal.”

 

Ser Barristan studied the older man in stunned silence, his face confirming what she already knew. This was Jon Connington, which meant that the boy with him was her brother’s son.

 

“Rise,” she said quietly. Suddenly the air filled with dragons, all three leaping into the air and flying around the tent. Jon Connington fell back, but Aegon did not move, smiling as he watched them. As soon as the dragons resumed their position beside her, Dany rose and walked to stand before Aegon, putting her hands on his face. “How is it possible? They murdered you with your mother and sister.”

 

“Lord Varys gave my mother a babe from Flea Bottom and sent me with those loyal to my parents to bring me across the Narrow Sea to Lord Connington. Since then, I have been in posing as his son,” Aegon explained. Running his hand through his hair, he explained, “I dye my hair blue to pose as Tyroshi.”

 

“I cannot believe this,” Dany finally murmured. The battle in Yunkai all but forgotten, she asked Missandei to bring wine and fruit for her guests. The Unsullied brought in chairs for both of them and Dany sat across from Aegon, unable to stop staring at his face.

 

“Daenerys, it is time to return to Westeros. You have the Unsullied. I have the Golden Company. That is almost twenty thousand men. And you have _dragons_ : the first dragons in three hundred years. With your dragons, I can reclaim my throne!”

 

Her mouth tightened as she glared at him. “You claim you have come back from the dead and expect to use _my_ dragons and _my_ army to conquer Westeros for yourself? I survived the fires to bring forth my dragons. I won this army to my cause. I conquered Astapor and we will conquer Yunkai. I have powerful allies in Westeros who are ready to back my claim. You forget yourself. I have lived the life of an exiled Targaryen, despite my enemies’ attempts to kill me, while you hid behind your dyed hair.” She jumped to her feet, anger filling her. “I am the Khaleesi and the Mother of Dragons! If you think I will allow you to push me aside, you are sadly mistaken. _I_ will take the Iron Throne. If you wish to be by my side…”

 

Jon Connington’s eyes filled with anger and he attempted to speak but Aegon interrupted him, utterly calm. “We will rule together, as husband and wife. We will keep the tradition of our family and marry.”

 

A bitter laugh escaped Dany’s lips. “I do not need a husband to take the Seven Kingdoms. And I don’t even know if you truly are my nephew. I’ve known you barely minutes.”

 

“You can look in my eyes and know who I am. Or the woman posing as my septa will confirm it. She was a constant companion to my mother, Princess Elia. I will bring her to you in the morn. If you refuse to believe Lord Connington, perhaps you will believe Lady Dayne.” Aegon’s face remained open and trusting.

 

“Ashara Dayne?” Ser Barristan sputtered.

 

“We are a band of ghosts,” Connington mused. “She sacrificed her future to protect the son of her dearest friend.”

 

“Leave us now and bring this woman to me when the battle of Yunkai is over. Not one moment before. You will come before me after witnessing my second victory and then you will truly kneel to me,” Daenerys said boldly.

 

Aegon rose gracefully and inclined his head. “If you lose, we will ride to your aid. And when we do, _you will bow to me_.” He swept out of the tent and Jon Connington bowed to Daenerys again before following his young charge.

 

~*~

 

Dacey had watched helplessly as the gathering of starving smallfolk surrounding the King’s party had turned into an angry mob. As soon as she lost sight of Sansa and Daryn, she took the steps descending into the tunnel two at a time. She had to get closer to where the riots were and find Sansa. Picking up her weapons, which she had hidden nearby earlier, she ran through the complex maze beneath the buildings. Her decision to wear breeches and hide chainmail under her leather jerkin had been a wise one. Sweat pouring from her forehead, Dacey sprinted the final length of the tunnels, barely able to breathe as panic set in, stirred by the screams and the smells of blood and fear coming from the street.

 

As she climbed back up to the surface, Dacey had to stop and reorient herself, recalling the different alleys that led to the street before her. She had no way of knowing where Sansa was. Daryn had been close to Sansa, or so she thought, but it was hard to tell one of the City Watch from another in a crowd so large. Despite the noise outside, she could hear her heart pounding and her labored breath. She needed to calm herself, or she would be useless to everyone.

 

Forcing herself to put her fear for Sansa out of her mind, Dacey focused hard on the wild chorus of noises, trying to discern where the crowd was thickest so she could get ahead of Sansa but as close to her as possible. She closed her eyes briefly, and centered herself. Opening her eyes once more, she raced down the corridor and ran down an alley. People were rushing in from the street and she leapt over an old man who collapsed on the ground.  She had to shove two men out of her way to get down another alley.  The more she ran, she more worried she became that she would forget the paths to the tunnels.

 

“Come here, girl!” A man tried to grab her and she shot the heel of her hand at his nose.  He screamed and doubled over with his hands covering his face. She shoved her knee between his legs hard as she lowered both her fists to the back of his neck. Before his body hit the ground, Dacey moved away. A feminine scream from one of corridors drew her away from the street. It was nearly too late; she came up behind The Hound with Sansa over his shoulder. She pulled her battle axe out from behind her back.

 

 

“Put her down or I will gut you like a pig,” Daryn demanded, his sword held out before him. Mors and another man stood to his left.

 

Sansa glanced up in terror. Furious at the sight of the girl’s ripped dress and hair in disarray, Dacey lurched forward, slamming the side of the axe into the Hound’s head, knocking him out. She caught Sansa as he crashed down and pulled the girl to her feet and out of the way. Dacey brought the axe over her head, preparing to cleave the Hound’s skull, when Sansa screamed out, “No! Don’t hurt him!” She leapt at Dacey, grabbing her arms. “He _saved_ me.”

 

Glancing first at Sansa then back at the Hound, Dacey let out a deep breath. She turned back to Sansa, studying the gash on her forehead and her ripped gown. “Are you hurt, my lady?”

 

“No, he stopped those men from… from…they were going to.” Sansa gestured behind her and Dacey turned to look at the grisly scene. The three men’s guts and entrails littered the ground, their blood staining the ground.  Dacey thanked the gods that the men had been stopped, even if it was by the Hound.

 

Sansa was studying Daryn in his City Watch uniform with wary eyes. He took off his gloves and took a knee before her. “My lady, I am Daryn Hornwood. I do not know if you recall meeting me.”

 

She was quiet, most likely overwhelmed by the horror of what she had witnessed and almost been subjected to. Daryn smiled gently at her. “Your brother is right. You favor your lady mother very much.”

 

“You know Robb?” Sansa asked quietly, still studying Daryn with wide blue eyes. When he nodded, she smiled faintly.

 

“Your parents are Lord Halys and Lady Donella,” she replied with a sigh of relief. “Did Robb send you?”

 

Daryn rose, saying, “Yes, Lord Robb and Lady Catelyn sent me and Dacey to bring you home.” Gesturing to Mors and the other man, he said, “Mors and his son have helped us find a ship. They’ll take us to meet your parents and King Renly in the Reach.”

 

“We must hurry. The Lannisters and the king will soon be looking for Lady Sansa,” Mors said. “We need to return to the tunnels and wait for nightfall.”

 

“What will we do about him? If we leave him, he’ll return to the king and tell him what you and your son look like. We have to kill him,” Dacey declared.

 

Once again Sansa pleaded with her. “He saved my life. You cannot kill him. _Please_ Lady Dacey.”

 

Dacey huffed in frustration and began removing the Hound’s armor. Glancing up at Daryn, she exclaimed, “Are you going to stand and watch or help me? If we’re taking him with us, I’d rather not drag him through the tunnels in full armor. He weighs enough as it is. Mors, find something to gag him and tie his hands.  If he wakes up before we board the ship, he’ll put up a fight, and the lady wants him spared.”

 


	11. Chapter 10

 

 

_A/N Thanks to the lovely Vlad for the beta work! :) I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you **SO** much for the reviews!_

**Chapter 10**

 

Daenerys still waited for word from Yunkai, but as the hours crept by, she felt exhaustion wash over her in waves. She closed her eyes, just for a few moments, trying to settle her thoughts. The night had been stressful, first in waiting for word from Ser Jorah and her armies, and then with the arrival of the man who claimed to be Aegon. She knew that Ser Barristan spoke what he believed to be the truth about Jon Connington and Aegon. But Dany could not trust so easily. She had learned her lesson about that.

 

A noise interrupted her thoughts and she glanced around her pavilion. All of her dragons slept nearby, so she knew there was no threat. But she was surprised to find the mysterious Quaithe emerging from the shadows.  Startled, she demanded, “How did you pass my guards?”

 

“They cannot see what is not there.”

 

“Then I am dreaming? Like when I saw you on the ship from Qarth?”

 

“No, you did not dream then or now.” Quaithe waved her hand in dismissal. The woman took a step toward her, her red lacquer mask clicking as she moved. “Listen to me, Daenerys Targaryen. You must remember what you learned in the House of the Undying. _There are three heads of the dragons… three fires must you light... one for life and one for death and one to love... three mounts must you ride... one to bed and one to dread and one to love... three treasons will you know... once for blood and once for gold and once for love…_ ”

 

“I’m too tired for riddles,” Dany sighed. “Is Griff my nephew? Is he the second dragon?”

 

“You know the answer.  But you must not bind yourself to this one, Daenerys Stormborn.  Find the third dragon.”

 

“A third?”  Daenerys was skeptical.  “And where shall I find him?”

 

“Among the wolves.  Trust them, for only the Winged Wolf completes the Song of Ice and Fire.”  Quaithe’s voice softened.  “Remember who you are, Daenerys.  The dragons know.  The wolves will, too - in time.  Do you?”

 

Daenerys shook her head in exasperation, the bells she wore in her hair ringing softly with every movement. “Nothing you say makes sense. How do I know I can trust _you_?”

 

“You do not. Your dragons trust me,” Quaithe said. To prove her point she walked over to where Drogon slept. At first Daenerys thought the dragon didn’t move because Quaithe was only a vision but then Drogon raised his head and looked intently at Quaithe. His massive wings fluttered out and he took flight around the woman before landing in front of her again, bowing his head for her to touch him. Drogon behaved that way for no one other than Dany and, at first, a flare of jealousy filled her.

 

Eventually, she asked, “What shall I do?”

 

“Decide.”

 

“But how will I know this third dragon?” Daenerys asked.

 

“He will come to you with a white shadow and then your white dragon will leave you. You must lose one dragon to gain another.” Quaithe’s voice sounded softer and Dany had to strain to hear her. “Be wary, but do not test the third and do not make him your enemy.”

 

“You already warned me of three treasons: once for blood and once for gold and once for love. Mirri Maz Duur betrayed me for blood. How do I know if this man will betray me for love?” The camp grew louder and she rose to walk to the flaps of the tent, peeking outside.

 

Daenerys received no answer and she knew without turning around that she was alone in the tent with only her dragons now. Quaithe’s messages made her head spin. A third dragon? Quaithe was telling her to trust Robb and Ned Stark, clearly. But was Robb Stark or Ned Stark the _Winged_ Wolf?  And could she ever sacrifice a dragon for any man? Quaithe had made it sound like she had no choice; Viserion would leave on his own or worse: perhaps he would die. She walked over to her dragons and Rhaegal turned his head to observe her. As soon as violet eyes met bronze ones, Daenerys saw her brother Rhaegar reflected in them as he fell on the Trident. The last word he spoke was _‘Lyanna’_ and Dany thought she knew the answer to the question of the third dragon: Could Rhaegar have...?  No, it couldn't be...another son, a son with Lyanna Stark?

 

Tears filled her eyes suddenly, her mind turning over the fact that she might no longer be alone. She may have two nephews. She did not know how to feel about Rhaegar’s son by Lyanna. Their love sparked the war and downfall of the Targaryen three-hundred year dynasty, the loss of her father, her brother, and his children by Elia Martell, his true princess, not to mention forcing Daenerys and Viserys to live a life in exile. But was her brother more at fault for this than Daenerys wanted to accept?

 

If Rhaegar knew Elia could not provide him with a third and final heir, was he willing to do whatever it took to fulfill the prophecy, even if that meant stealing a young woman from her family and her betrothed?  Even if love was the reason he took her or why she ran away with him, Rhaegar had to know there would be repercussions.

 

 _He will not trust you, nor will he love you at first._ Rhaegar’s second son may hate Daenerys because she was the daughter of Aerys, the man that murdered his grandfather and uncle. Or he will hate that he is the son of Rhaegar if people truly believed he kidnapped Lyanna Stark. What had Ned Stark told him of his birth? _He has always been apart from the others because he is living a lie._

Daenerys felt a strange bond to this man already. Had she not lived her life apart from others? Her only companion for years was Viserys who grew more desperate and mad each day.

 

“Khaleesi?” she heard Missandei call her from outside her tent. She entered upon Dany’s command, a wide smile on her face. “The men have returned victorious! The city is yours.”

 

Daenerys nodded. “I must prepare to meet this man who claims to be my nephew. Bring me bath water.”

 

After the servant left her, she trailed her hand down Rhaegal’s back absentmindedly, trying to shake the anticipation of knowing she was returning home, not just to claim the throne, but to find her other nephew, the man who should have been the rightful king upon the death of Aegon. Ned Stark had taken him away from his sister’s arms and forced him to live the life of a bastard. Why ever would he have done that when the boy would have been a king? Had Ned Stark raised him as his son or treated him like an outcast and enemy? Did he hate the Targaryens so much that he’d rather make the babe a bastard than admit he was Rhaegar’s son?

 

“Ser Barristan?” she called. The old knight entered the tent quickly. She had known he wouldn’t be far away. “What is the name of Ned Stark’s bastard son and how old is he?”

 

“I believe he was named after Lord Stark’s foster father, Jon Arryn. Being from the north, his name would be Snow, unless he took the surname of his mother’s lands. He's close in age to his eldest son,” Ser Barristan answered with a quizzical expression.

 

“Thank you, ser.” She waited until he had gone back outside before she whispered into the night, “Jon Snow, who are you?”

 

~*~

 

Gendry watched with envy as Queen Margaery bantered playfully with her brother. He had never had a family and hadn’t realized what he was missing until spending time with Arya and Lord Stark and now the Tyrell siblings. Arya talked about her brothers and sister with fondness, even if she was complaining about Sansa’s primness or Bran’s pestering. And the sun rose and set on Jon Snow, bastard or not, to hear Arya tell it. Gendry suspected he would have liked a little sister like that, maybe even more than he would have liked to know his father.

 

“You’re quiet tonight,” Renly pointed out, signaling one of the servants to pour them both some more ale. “Are you troubled?”

 

“I was merely thinking, Your Grace…” Gendry began picking at the threading of his doublet. He had never worn clothes so fine. The queen had ordered a few outfits made for him in such rich material that Gendry felt like a child was playing dress-up. But even when he was a child, he’d never played games where he was anything other than what he was: a lowborn bastard. And no matter how many people knew he was the late King Robert’s son, Gendry felt more out of place among King Renly and his court  than he ever had with people such as the Night’s Watch recruits.

 

“I told you to call me Uncle when we were alone,” Renly admonished him gently. “Tell me what your thoughts are this fine evening.”

 

Gendry studied his ale for a brief moment before clearing his throat. “Well, I mean no disrespect but I don’t understand why my father’s death caused so much confusion over the throne. He has two sons. It makes sense that his oldest son is the king now. Yet the queen regent sent men to kill me, a bastard with no claim, and you and your brother are fighting for the crown as well.”

 

Loras and the queen came and sat down with them. The queen looked at him for a long moment until Gendry felt his ears burning. He was not used to a beautiful highborn woman paying attention to him. But her look was sympathetic and she said to Renly, “Husband, Gendry deserves to know the truth from you, rather than someone else.”

 

“Of course, beloved,” Renly said with a weary sigh. “Have you heard of Ser Jaime Lannister, the Cersei Lannister’s twin brother?”

 

“Yes. Even at Tobho Mott’s shop, they said he was the best swordsman in Westeros,” Gendry admitted.

 

“ _One_ of the best…” Loras corrected him with a knowing smile.

 

“Hush,” Margaery said, slapping her brother’s knuckles.

 

“As I was saying,” Renly’s voice rose a bit to draw the attention back to him. “My brother’s wife had three children but none of them are Robert’s. They are all bastard children of Ser Jaime Lannister. Lord Arryn died suspiciously. Surely you remember Lord Aaryn, the first man who sought you out.”

 

“That’s when the Starks became involved,” Loras added, leaning forward to make it sound very dark and melodramatic. “Their son, Bran, fell mysteriously and almost died.”

 

“Yes, Arry…I mean, Lady Arya told me about her brother. But what does her brother’s fall have to do with the king and queen?”

 

“While he was in a coma, some catspaw in rags attempted to murder him in his bed using a Valyrian steel dagger. As a blacksmith, you know the rarity of Valyrian steel weapons. Very strange belonging to such a poor fellow, isn’t it?” Loras answered.

 

“When Lord Stark investigated what Lord Arryn had found, he discovered you and the truth. All of the royal heirs were products of incest. Lord Stark, in misguided mercy, warned the queen to leave King’s Landing. But then Robert was wounded on our hunt, no doubt as a result of Cersei’s plotting, and he died before he ever knew the truth. Her son had Lord Stark arrested for saying he had no claim to the throne. ”

 

“So this king… Joffrey… is not my brother at all? His parents are brother and sister?” Gendry could not keep the shock and disgust out of his voice. He had been told that Targaryens married brother to sister but this was the first time he had heard of it in another house. “Do many high-borns allow brothers and sisters to…” Gendry glanced at the queen and stumbled for the proper way to say it.

 

Luckily, Loras spared him the embarrassment and answered, “It’s considered an affront to the Seven. But so are bastards and gambling so I wouldn’t say that’s the real reason why most families do not approve of such behavior.” He glanced at his sister for a moment struggling to find the right words.

 

The queen shook her head and said, “What the Cersei and Jaime Lannister did was _unnatural_.”

 

Gendry nodded, understanding despite having had no family. Until he met Arya, he’d never confided anything to anyone. But she wasn’t _his_ sister. She had three real brothers and one half brother. What would she need with another bastard? Gendry reminded himself that no matter who his father was, he was still no more than that.

 

“Lord Stark confessed to treason to protect his daughters,” Renly continued, staring at his cup, deep in thought. “Then Cersei killed every one of Robert’s bastards that she could find. Edric Storm, Mya Stone, and you are the only ones who remain of my brother’s many children.”

 

“And Lord Stannis is your older brother?” Gendry asked.

 

“Yes, my brother is his _true_ heir. But Stannis would be a horrible king,” Renly said sharply, then seemed to remember himself, softening the edge to his voice. “If you knew Stannis, you’d understand. He is miserable with his lot in life and has always envied me because Robert made me Lord of Storm’s End. I have no doubt that if Robert lived long enough to discover the truth about Joffrey and Tommen, he would have chosen me over Stannis as his heir.”

 

“Of course he would,” Margaery said, reaching out and taking the king’s hand. “You were always his favorite.”

 

Gendry remained quiet for a few moments, trying to hold back the anger he felt. At last he spat out, “What was he like? I mean no disrespect to you, but all I hear about him is how he slay Rhaegar Targaryen, then he drank and whored around the whole time he was king. It seems that the greatest thing he did was many years ago but in the end, he was nothing but a drunken fool. I do not understand why my mother would shame herself for this man.”

 

The tent grew very quiet as the other three looked at each other. Flushing hotly, Gendry stood to leave, feeling ashamed for his outburst. The queen rose as well but before Gendry could speak, Margaery turned to Loras and asked, “Brother, would you walk me to my tent? I wish to retire and I think the king would like to spend some more time with his nephew.”

 

Margaery kissed Renly on the cheek and graced Gendry with a smile as she left, followed by Loras. Renly sat staring at his goblet in silence.

 

“Forgive me, Your Grace…”

 

“ _Uncle_ ,” Renly reminded him with a smile. “Do not apologize. I barely remember my own parents so I understand how you feel. In the end, Robert _was_ a drunk who cared more about whoring than running his kingdom. He enjoyed hunting and watching tournaments more than he cared for listening to troubles of his people. Was he a great king? No, absolutely not. But there was something about Robert, something that I see small glimpses of in you.”

 

Gendry couldn’t believe that was possible. “What?”

 

“He was brave and fierce and larger than life at one time, with his powerful war hammer and stories of the war. But that wasn’t the quality that drew people to him. He was charming, even as a child from what that I’ve heard. Everyone at Storm’s End was completely devoted to Robert. When I was just a boy, he’d visit and he’d toss me in the air as high as he could but I knew he’d catch me and I never was afraid. He’d take me riding and challenge me to jump high hedges and race him to the cliffs above the sea. Robert would charm the kitchen maids to give us special treats or he’d sneak me a cup of wine, even though I was only a boy. Maester Cressen taught me my lessons and Stannis spent his time with me reminding me of the duties of managing Storm’s End, even when I was too young to care. But Stannis never took pleasure in anything and Robert took pleasure everywhere he could find it. He protected me but he still showed me how to be brave and find enjoyment in life.” Renly smiled at Gendry. “He taught me to laugh.”

 

Gendry remained quiet as he thought about Robert. Finally he asked, “But how am I like him?”

 

“I’ve seen you with the younger boys, the recruits from the Night’s Watch. You never seem the least bit afraid, which aids _their_ courage. You’ve protected Arya Stark as well. But I see a lot of myself in you:  the pride in your skills and that desire to find something that’s all your own,” Renly leaned forward and grasped his arm. “Robert would be proud of you. I don’t know if that matters much to you but he’d be pleased at the man you’ve become.”

 

“Thank you, Your… Uncle. I’m grateful for everything you, the queen, and Ser Loras have done for me. The clothes, the armor, and the horse… I’ve never owned anything so fine I only hope one day I will amount to something and repay you by being of some use,” Gendry said, feeling overwhelmed by Renly’s kindness.

 

Renly laughed aloud and stood, clapping his hand over Gendry’s shoulder. “Nonsense! This is what family is for. It’s good to know that I have another small part of Robert.” A shadow passed over his face. “My brother was many things, perhaps more bad than good, but I loved him. And when you meet Edric, you’ll also have a brother. Perhaps it’s not a proper family…”

 

“It’s more than I’ve ever had before,” Gendry reminded him.

 

~*~

 

Catelyn shook Ned awake roughly. “Ned. Ned!”

 

“What is it?” he said, sitting up immediately, looked first at her then at Arya’s cot.

 

“You were calling out in your sleep,” she whispered, concern crossing her face. “For Lyanna. Then you said he wasn’t dragon spawn and you kept saying _you promise_. Who were you talking about, Ned? Who isn’t dragon spawn? And what promise did you make so long ago that disturbs your sleep even now?”

 

Ned was soaked with sweat and threw the covers off as he sat up, rubbing his face with his hands. He didn’t remember his nightmare tonight, though he wasn’t surprised that it was about his sister. It wasn’t the first time he’d had nightmares about her dying in his arms. Even in the black cells, he had dreamed of Lyanna and his promise.

 

“My lady…my guilt keeps me from sleep,” he admitted, not turning to face her. He spoke softly for fear of Arya waking. “For in this war, I do not know what will happen to me and, if I die before I put things to right, I will have wronged the ones that I love.”

 

His admission was met with silence and he turned around to find Catelyn staring at the tent above them, her eyes looking as if she was trying to force back tears.  “What is it?” he asked quietly, running his fingers through her hair.

 

“You’ve speaking of the war as if I might lose you and I’ve only just had you returned,” she replied, looking up at him with her blue eyes, eyes so beautiful he wished to never see tears in them again.

 

“Cat…” He needed to tell her the truth, before it was too late. “I have to tell you some things and I fear you might not ever forgive me.”

 

“This is about _him_ isn’t it?” Her eyes turned away from his and her mouth tightened. “About his mother, this woman you shamed me with.”

 

Ned sighed and looked straight ahead, gathering his courage. He’d rather face a hundred men on the battlefield that hurt his wife with his betrayal. “I _must_ tell you the truth. If anything happens to me, you need to tell Jon…”

 

“You’re more concerned that your bastard know who his mother is than you are about _my_ feelings?” The venom in her voice shot straight to his heart. He’d done a disservice to her and Jon both by not telling them the truth long ago, but if anyone else had found out... Even now, he dreaded the danger to his family. As he tried to decide the wording, she shocked him with her accusation. “His mother is Ashara Dayne, is it not? I’ve heard the rumors…”

 

“No!” Ned gasped out. “No, Cat. It’s not Ashara Dayne. I never…we never…no, my lady…Ashara Dayne was merely a friend. I barely knew her before the war. We danced once at Harrenhal. After the war, she helped me with Jon, finding him a wet nurse and helping me prepare to travel North with an infant so small. Lady Ashara…she lost much during the war. Her most cherished friend, then her brother, and by my hand... Her kindness was nearly unbearable after that. I do not know how to say more without hurting you, Cat.”

 

She quoted his own words back to him. “It is better to cut off a man’s head than allow him to slowly bleed to death of a thousand wounds.”

 

Ned nodded, knowing it was time. He took a deep breath and stumbled on. “Ashara Dayne’s daughter died within days of her birth and Ashara was overwhelmed with grief. They say she threw herself from the tower into the sea…”

 

Confusion set in Catelyn’s face and she turned to him. “Why would _her_ child’s death hurt me? Unless you are saying that her daughter was another one of your bastards?”

 

“No!” Ned exclaimed a little too loudly. Catelyn grabbed his arm as both of them silently watched Arya for any signs of her waking up. After confirming she still slept, Ned rushed on. “Ashara Dayne was never my lover. _Never_. Her daughter was not my bastard. Her daughter was my _niece_.”

 

Catelyn stared at him in confusion for a long time while Ned allowed her to piece together what that meant. Suddenly, she whispered, “Brandon.”

 

“Yes. Ashara loved him even though he was betrothed to you. I wish I could explain why Brandon allowed it to go so far but I don’t know. He only told me after she was with child.” He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. All of the feelings from that time in his life came rushing back. “Bastards are not as reviled in Dorne as they are in the rest of Westeros, so Ashara meant to raise his daughter alone. She loved Brandon and was forced to watch him die. After he was murdered, Princess Elia sent her back to Starfall, fearing what would happen if the king ever learned whose child she carried. That was why Ashara helped me care for Jon, because he reminded her so much of her daughter.” Ned felt the tears on his face as his throat tightened. “She was a beautiful babe, Cat. Her name was Elia Dawn. But her look was all Stark, except for the violet eyes of her mother.”

 

“You were with her with she had her child?” Catelyn’s voice was cold and distant, completely monotone, like she felt nothing, betraying neither anger nor pain.

 

“She gave birth to the babe the day after I arrived. I couldn’t leave her knowing that the child was Brandon’s. Forgive me if that hurts you but…”

 

“No, of course not.” She laughed bitterly. “I was your wife and had just given birth to your son and heir. Of course you should have stayed with Ashara Dayne. After all, you had so much in common. You both had bastard children, you both loved Brandon... _Men of honor stronger than the Wall_ , that was what Father always said but _both_ of you dishonored me.” She jumped off the cot and began dressing quickly. “I will listen to no more.”

 

“No, Cat, you must. You must know everything,” Ned said, jumping up and trying to stop her. The glare she gave him stopped him from touching her. He’d never seen such anger, and he feared how much worse it would become before the night was finished. Arya stirred in her sleep and Nymeria, sensing the tension in the tent, sat up, watching them both. Perhaps it was best if they did go outside. Ned began throwing on his clothes haphazardly.

 

“What are you doing?” Catelyn snapped. “I wish to be alone.”

 

“I know you do, but you must listen to me,” Ned insisted. When she stormed out of the tent without even brushing her hair, Ned rushed to put his boots on. By the time he made it outside, Catelyn had already disappeared from sight, and he set out looking for her.  He finally found her in a darkened area away from the tents, sitting on a boulder beside a small creek.

 

Ned walked to her and said her name quietly. Even in the moonlight he could see the tears glistening in her eyes when she raised them to him. “I always thought that even though you brought home a bastard, you came to me as soon as you were able, eager to see your heir, at least. But now I find out that you were in Dorne comforting the paramour of your brother, my first betrothal.” A sob escaped her lips and she said, “You cared more for Brandon’s bastard and your own than you cared for your wife and heir. If the baby had lived, would you have brought her home to Winterfell as well, another humiliation for me?”

 

“No! Cat, no. I couldn’t bear to see you and Robb in the state I was in after the war. Robert was king, the Targaryens’ dynasty had ended, but I didn’t have the strength to be Lord of Winterfell, a father, and a husband. The scene in that throne room with the Princess and her children and the sacking of King’s Landing was more than I could bear. I went to rescue Lyanna only to have her die in my arms. You and I were married then, but we hardly knew each other. I couldn’t ask you to comfort me for the loss of my brother and his child or the loss of my sister. I wasn’t able to tell you the truth about Lyanna… I needed time to mourn. I could barely care for Jon and I feared how I’d manage my own son…”

 

“Your _own_ son?” Catelyn said quickly, turning to him. “You mean your _other_ son?”

 

Once the truth had slipped from his lips, Ned knew there was no longer any use in keeping it from her. “I have always said Jon is my blood and that is not a lie. But Robb is our son… as are Bran and Rickon. They are my _only_ sons. Cat, there has been no one but you since we spoke our vows.”

 

She stared at him dumbfounded. At last she whispered, “Jon is older? He was born before Robb?”

 

“No, Cat. You misunderstand. Jon isn’t _my_ son. He’s not my bastard. He’s not a bastard at all. He’s…he’s...” His chest tightened with panic at finally admitting the secret he’d kept from everyone for so many years. “He’s Lyanna’s trueborn son with Rhaegar Targaryen. He was Rhaegar’s heir.” Cat said nothing, and Ned let the story pour out of him. “My sister ran away with Rhaegar; he didn’t kidnap or rape her. She fell in love and ran away with no thought to the consequences. Rhaegar took her as his second wife, as Targaryens have done before. She was with child before she learned of Brandon and Father’s deaths. She wanted to send word to me, but she couldn’t, fearing it would put me in more danger. Then the war broke out and it was too late. Too much had happened and she knew it couldn’t be stopped.”

 

Catelyn sat very still, not speaking, so he continued to explain. “When Lyanna learned that not only had she lost Father and Brandon, but Rhaegar and Princess Elia and her children as well, her heart broke and she lost all will to live, blaming herself for all the deaths. She labored with Jon for days, knowing that when he was born, he’d likely be slaughtered as well. That’s why the Kingsguard were at the Tower of Joy, to protect an heir to the throne. Lyanna was weak, her life fading so quickly as the fever took her. Howland Reed attempted to help her but we were just too late. She made me promise that I would take Jon to Winterfell and raise him as a Stark. I had to protect him from Robert, who called Rhaegar’s other children ‘dragon spawn’ and stepped over their corpses to take the throne. Do you see why I had to hide his parentage from every one? Only Howland knows the truth. Even Wylla, his wet nurse, thought he was my bastard.”

 

They sat in silence for what seemed like ages before Ned reached out to take her hand. Catelyn jerked away from him, a sob escaping her lips. “Should I admire what you’ve done, my lord? Protecting a Targaryen boy by humiliating me and making me feel as if you loved another, by putting all of our lives in danger for him? Should I suddenly feel love for Lyanna’s son after all these years and grateful that he isn’t your bastard? You have lied to me for our whole marriage. Every time I saw that boy, I resented him for looking more like you than our sons. I resented the way our children loved him as dearly as they loved each other, the way Arya looked up to him and Robb couldn’t bear to be separated from him. I _hated_ him because he represented a woman you loved enough to dishonor me. Explain to me now, how shall I feel for him?”

 

“I don’t expect you to change your feelings, but all of this is my folly, not Jon’s.”

 

“It was never his fault! That’s what shamed me so, that I hated this boy and it was never his fault. I was only able to forgive you for your bastard by hating him for his existence. When he went to the Wall, I was so grateful that I no longer had to see the constant reminder of a woman you loved so much you refused to name her.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “Now I find out that he is also a victim of your lies and I still cannot feel the sympathy for him that I know I should.”

 

“I know. You must believe how sorry I am and how many times I wished to tell you.”

 

“Must I?” Her gaze flew to his. “Must I truly believe anything you say anymore? Your confession was to sooth _your_ conscience, Eddard Stark. No one else will benefit from this knowledge. Not myself or your children and certainly not the boy in question. Jon Snow left the Wall to rescue you, his _father_ and his _sisters_. And now you mean to tell him that you’ve lied to him his whole life, let him carry the burden of being a bastard and tell him that he is an orphan as well. You’ll take away his brothers and sisters in the process.”

 

“They are still his family. He is a Stark as much as he is a Targaryen. My sister’s blood flows in him, the same as mine and I love him as much as if he were my own. I do not know how Jon will feel when he learns the truth but I know our children will love him regardless, as will I. If he never forgives me that is the price I must pay but I did what I had to do to protect him and our family. If Robert ever found out who he was, his anger would know no bounds and extend to every one of us. I never told you so that you wouldn’t have to commit treason by denying that the true heir to the throne of Westeros slept under your roof all these years.”

 

Catelyn’s glare was like ice as she asked, “Is there anything else you’ve kept from me?”

 

Ned cleared his throat and looked down for a moment. He’d gone too far now not to tell her everything. “Aegon Targaryen is not dead and neither is Ashara Dayne. The babe murdered in the Red Keep was another babe. I did not know until I came to Dorne what had truly happened to Prince Aegon. May the gods forgive me, but I risked everything that Robert and I had fought for to help Ashara escape across the Narrow Sea with the prince. She couldn’t save Elia, so she saved her son, as I saved Lyanna’s. I feared one day that Prince Aegon or Prince Viserys would attempt to claim the throne, but I couldn’t allow Robert to murder them. It was not loyalty to the Targaryens; it was compassion and mercy for mere children.  Too many lives had been lost because Lyanna ran away with Rhaegar.”

 

“Gods, Ned, what have you done?” she exclaimed her hand covering her mouth.

 

“I betrayed my friend, my king, long ago and I betrayed you and Jon. Every day I bear the weight of all of these lies. And when Robert told me to have Daenerys Targaryen murdered, I refused because she’s still only a child herself. Aerys Targaryen was a monster and I do not regret overthrowing him. But what the Lannisters did in King’s Landing dishonored all of those who fought for Robert. I attempted to make it right.”

                                                                                                                                                                   

Catelyn rose slowly, taking a few steps to stand before him. She looked him in the eyes long and hard. “Your lies may well be the ruin of us all.

 

~*~

 

Sansa tried to ignore the queasiness that washed over her every time the ship swayed. Singing under her breath, she held a cool cloth to Sandor’s forehead. He had regained consciousness before it was time to board the boat, and after he attacked Daryn, Dacey had knocked him out again - this time more effectively. He hadn’t woken since. If Sansa had not begged, then finally commanded, she felt certain that Dacey would have ended him. So now he lay tightly bound to a cot in one of the small cabins on the ship, with a dreadful lump on his head.  

 

While she appreciated Dacey’s protectiveness, the Mormont heir appeared to loathe everything Sandor represented: a Kingsguard, a Clegane, and a Lannister loyalist. Sansa had overheard Dacey tell Lord Hornwood that Sansa’s brother or father would likely kill Clegane anyway. Sansa did not think Father would, once he learned how Sandor had rescued her and protected her virtue from those horrible men.

 

“Stop that blasted singing,” Sandor said, the words more moaned that spoken. His eyes remained tightly shut but he attempted to move one of his arms, only to realize it was tied. It was then that his eyes opened, and he glared at her sullenly. “If this is my reward for saving you, little bird, I should have let the men have you.”

 

“You don’t mean that,” Sansa admonished him. “You’re tied because you tried to crush Lord Hornwood when you woke the last time. If you had just listened to what Lady Dacey had to say…”

 

“Is that the bitch that hit me? Did she hit me last time as well? I’ll kill her.”

 

“You’ll do no such thing,” Sansa declared flatly. “Joffrey had no right to hold me hostage and Lady Dacey and Lord Hornwood are taking me to my family. You are lucky I would not let them kill you, although how you behave on the journey _will_ affect your chances of survival with my brother and father.”

 

Sandor studied her for a few moments before smirking. “Did you beg for my life, explaining how I had been your champion? Were you singing a song about your brave knight? You and your bloody fantasies. Have you still not learned what the world is truly like? That riot is closer to the truth but you’ll hear no songs about it. Life is not a song, little bird.”

 

Her eyes narrowed, Sansa threw the wet rag on the table beside his cot. “Someone else once told me that: Lord Petyr Baelish, right after he explained to me how foolish I was for believing in knights and monsters. He was right - there are more monsters than true knights in King’s Landing. But perhaps you shouldn’t be so proud of yourself for sharing a brothel owner’s wisdom of the world.” At his answering snort, she rose to her feet. “Now that I am certain you will not die, I will leave you to your own miserable company.”

 

As she was walking towards the door, Sandor called out, “At least give me some ale, girl! That’s the least you could do.”

 

Sansa paused at the door for a moment. “You forgot to say _please_ , Ser.” She heard his curses as she slammed the door behind her, knowing that it would do no good for his aching head. Despite his rescuing her, the man infuriated Sansa to her very soul. He was the most inconsiderate, hard-headed, pompous oaf she had ever met. Sandor mocked her at every turn, treating her as if she were a simpleton. Sansa knew she had been naïve about people, but she wasn’t dim-witted. Seeing one of the crew passing by, she asked, “Could you please bring something to eat for our guest and some wine or ale if you have it? I would get it myself but I fear I do not know where the kitchen is.”

 

“Yes, milady,” the man said with a heavy accent. “It is no trouble. Would you wish someone to help him eat?”

 

“No, I will do it. I just need some air,” Sansa said and the man rushed off. She walked down the long hallway. The ship’s air was oppressive, making her feel as if she was locked in a cage. She rushed towards the stairs, needing to escape.

 

Growing up, Sansa had seen troubled times and awful people, but they were rare. Some of the Northmen were boorish and ill-mannered at times, but Sansa and her mother were treated like ladies, deserving of the utmost respect. No one would dare be hateful or cruel to Sansa and risk offending her father. In fact, Arya was the only one who ever spoke crudely to her. A stable boy had once held her waist too long and her half brother, Jon Snow, had pulled Sansa away from him before returning to the stables, and doing gods only knew what to the boy. Another time, Theon once said something in her presence that she suspected was rude and inappropriate because Robb grew furious, immediately demanding he apologize to Sansa.  Between her parents and her two older brothers, Sansa lived protected from everyone except her younger sister. Arya’s insults paled in comparison to the way she was treated in King’s Landing but even her little sister would likely hit someone who spoke to Sansa in any hateful manner. 

 

No matter how much she fought with her brothers and sisters, they always protected one another. If one of them misbehaved, the others would claim ignorance or lie for them if asked by their parents. Theon once encouraged Robb and Jon to drink with him until both of them were sick and it was Sansa who sat with them through the night to make certain her parents didn’t see them so ill, bent over their chamber pots. Robb used to always dance with Sansa when guests visited, even when she was so small that she would stand on his feet to follow the steps.

 

Hullen taught her how to ride a horse but after she learned, her brothers taught her to race and jump. Sansa wasn’t nearly as good a rider as Arya was. All of them, except baby Rickon, would ride together with Theon and Jeyne Poole, so they could be carefree. Arya, half a wildling and half a horse, would race Jon and Robb until they let her win. Robb and Sansa had horrible snow ball fights in yard with Arya and Jon, who frequently surprised them from their positions up above. And if they’d play Come-Into-My-Castle, Sansa was _always_ the queen, no matter how many times Jeyne would beg. Robb would laugh and say ‘Sansa’s destiny is to be a queen or a princess and we are merely her subjects’.

 

She reached the deck and walked to the rail so she could stare at the water below. _Bran will never be in the Kingsguard. I don’t know where Jeyne and Arya are. Jeyne might even be dead, like her kind father who was murdered along with the other people from Winterfell by the Lannisters in the Hand’s Tower. And I **never** want to be queen._ Tears burned her eyes and she wished, that once again, she’d never left her home.

 

“Are you well, my lady?” Dacey said as she walked up behind her. “I hear your guest is awake.”

 

 _I miss my family. I want to go home. I’m tired of being afraid._ “I’m fine,” she said with a forced smile. “He is awake and rather ornery.”

 

“My lady, you shouldn’t spend too much time with him. He’s not a good man, and I think your father and brother would prefer you avoid him.” Dacey rested her hands on the railing.

 

“Will they kill him?” Sansa asked hesitantly. She didn’t know why she cared; the man was so unkind to her. But he _had_ protected her from Joffrey more than once, and from those men after the riot.

 

Surprised crossed Dacey’s face before she shrugged. “I do not know. It’s possible that since he saved you he will be allowed to live, but his house is loyal to the Lannisters so he will become a prisoner at least. Do you wish him to be pardoned?”

 

“I don’t know,” Sansa admitted. Arya wanted him dead for killing the butcher’s boy and she knew Father disliked both Cleganes. But the fact that Sandor had saved his daughter from the unimaginable might grant him his freedom. She couldn’t quite sort out her feelings on the matter, but at least she had time to think more on it before seeing her family.  A tear rolled down her face and she brushed it away quickly. “How is Lord Hornwood?”

 

“He’s in some pain after his to the altercation with the Hound, but I think he wishes for solitude to mourn his father. It was a hard blow. He feels he should have been there.”

 

“Instead of saddled with the duty of rescuing me…”

 

“ _No_ , my lady. It was an honor that we were chosen to rescue you. But all children wish to protect their parents, just as our parents wish to protect us.” The breeze blew Dacey’s loose hair around and Sansa realized how pretty she was despite wearing men’s clothing.

 

“I am so grateful to you and Lord Hornwood,” Sansa replied softly.” I truly feared I’d die in King’s Landing.”

 

“If King Renly had not helped Lord Robb with a plan to rescue you, he or Lord Stark would have found you as soon as they was able, even if they had to lay siege to King’s Landing,” Dacey insisted.

 

Sansa knew Dacey was right but doubts had crept in over time about her family’s power against the Lannisters, even with the rumors that Robb was winning all of the battles he fought and had taken a great deal of Lannister territory. Each rumor brought both pride and terror to her heart. But now that she was free and safe, she grew more and more angry. For the first time, Sansa wanted _revenge_. “I want my brothers to take Casterly Rock down, stone by stone, and then I want them to mount Joffrey’s head on a spike and lock the queen in the same cell where they put my father. And after King Renly has his throne, I want us all to go home.”

 

Dacey’s looked at her in surprise, then chuckled. “I am certain that your brothers will do all they can to fulfill that wish.”

 

~*~

 

“So she’s gone? Truly gone? And the Hound?” Tyrion demanded.

 

If Bronn was nervous, he didn’t show it. “We’ve searched everywhere for the girl. We only found Lady Lollys Stokeworth.”

 

Tyrion rubbed his temples with a deep sigh. “Yes, I’ve heard. Found her wandering around naked after being raped half a hundred times. The High Septon was butchered, a body that we believe to be the Master-At-Arms found in quite a bloody mess, and my young cousin, two Kingsguards, and the Stark girl are still missing. Continue to look for them until you find them. If we’ve lost Sansa Stark, the Starks will cut off Jaime’s head and send it to me in a box.”

 

Bronn held his hands out in frustration. “I lost nine men and forty were injured! How am I supposed to continue these searches with so few men? The fires are still burning in Flea Bottom.  Why not focus the search on the Stark girl if she is the only one of any true value to you? Or give me more men.”

 

“I will send Lannister men to search for Tyrek, but your men will search all day and night until you find Sansa Stark _or her body_. Put a curfew in place for all residents of the city,” Tyrion said as he stood. “You will find Sansa Stark for me, Bronn. I made you City Watch commander because I value your skills. Don’t make me regret that.”

 

“I’m _already_ regretting it,” Bronn snorted before turning and storming out of the room.

 

~*~

 

“My lord, _my lord_.” Robb had barely fallen asleep before his guard attempted to rouse him.

 

“What is it?” he called out, raising his head and rubbing his eyes.

 

“There’s been a raven, my lord, and a messenger from Riverrun.” Ser Wendel Manderly ducked his head into the tent and lumbered over to Robb, holding out two pieces of paper. “Ser Brynden said you’d want to read them now rather than waiting until the morning.”

 

Unrolling the raven’s scroll, Robb read that Renly had news of a riot in King’s Landing. They no longer knew where Sansa or her rescue party were. Robb sat up quickly. _Sansa. Dacey._ The thought that they might be lost stole his breath away. When he could speak, he said, “Find my brother and bring him here.”

 

He dressed quickly then sat down again to read the message from Riverrun. Jon entered his tent, looking half asleep. “What is it?”

 

“Seven hells!” Robb slammed his fist down onto his cot, throwing the parchment onto the ground. “There was a riot in King’s Landing, and Sansa, Dacey, and Daryn are missing. And Edmure let the Kingslayer escape!”

 

 ~*~

 

The night was almost completely black with no stars visible and only a sliver of moon lighting the way. Most of the torches had been extinguished by the wind, which was howling now. Ned trudged back to his tent, the parchment from the raven still clutched in his hand. His mind flashed through all the horrible fates his daughter could be suffering at this moment. His chest was so tight he could barely breathe. He stopped, trying to calm himself.

 

“My lord.” The voice came from behind. Startled, he turned to find the strange foreign man, Jaqen H'ghar. He hadn’t seen or heard him approach. “A man is troubled.”

 

“What man?” Ned asked looking around before realizing Jaqen H'ghar meant him. “I received disturbing news.”

 

“Such fire in your life,” Jaqen H'ghar chuckled darkly. “But the girl is safe. She is not as fierce as the little one, but beneath the beauty, she is still a wolf.”

 

Feeling even more unsettled, rather than comforted, Ned studied the man again. _Did Arya tell him about Sansa? Arya should not trust this stranger._

 

“A man chose between honor and family long ago. Did he choose right? Will the past haunt him?”

 

Ned lurched forward, dragging the man to him by his collar. “What do you speak of?”

 

Jaqen H'ghar held his gaze unflinchingly, smiling slightly. “The dragons and the wolves will meet again. Your children are powerful, more powerful than you know. But be wary of the shadow the red one brings.”

 

“No riddles,” Ned growled, tightening his hold on the man.

 

“Lord Stark? Is something amiss?”

 

Hearing Smalljon Umber come up behind him, Ned turned, releasing Jaqen H'ghar in the process. “No, I was merely discussing my intolerance for riddles with him.”

 

Smalljon stared at him for a few moments before saying, “With…who, my lord?”

 

Ned whirled around to find Jaqen H'ghar was gone. He stammered out some excuse that sounded weak even to his own ears. Wishing Smalljon a good night, Ned walked the rest of the way to his tent, dreading speaking to Catelyn about Sansa after all he had burdened her with earlier, and trying not to wonder what had just happened with Jaqen H'ghar.  


	12. Chapter 11

 

 

_A/N Thanks to my vivacious Viv for the beta work! :) I'm SO SO very sorry for the long time since my last update. Between RL issues, the holidays, and just being busy, my muse ran away. But she's back! I'll do better the next time.  
_

_I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you **SO** much for the reviews!_

 

**Chapter 11**

 

The next morning, Catelyn hardly spoke to him, dark circles under her eyes betraying her lack of sleep. Neither of them had slept after the raven about the riot in the capital. Arya was withdrawn as well, likely due to her own worries about Sansa, and she easily agreed to remain with her mother until Ned returned. When he left their tent, he kissed Arya on her temple and she looked up at him, determined. “Sansa will be fine. She’s a Stark. Despite her pretty manners, she knows how to protect herself well enough against me and her brothers.”

 

_But neither you nor her brothers ever truly wanted to hurt her._ Ned attempted to smile reassuringly. “Aye. I think you and your brother have taught her a few things.” He looked at Catelyn and saw her bite her lip and look away, tears filling her eyes. Every one of them knew that Sansa was the most naïve and gentle of their children. Ned didn’t want to think Sansa was fragile because he thought that if tested, her lady mother’s strength would shine through. He walked a few steps to Catelyn, reaching for her. She knew unless she wanted to explain their argument last night to Arya, she had to allow it, but Ned did not wish to force her to act too much for appearance sake. He merely brought her hands to his lips and kissed them gently before whispering, “Sansa is a survivor, like you. I do not doubt her courage any more than I doubt yours.” Once again, she bit her lip and glanced up in an attempt to stop her tears. “I shall return, my lady.” Reluctantly, he left them in order to meet with Renly and his advisors.

 

Ned had to _force_ himself to focus on anything other his eldest daughter until the meeting with Stannis was over. Too much was at stake. The camp had been on high alert since the raven with news of the Kingslayer’s escape came from Robb during the early hours of the morning, shortly after Renly had told him of the riot in King’s Landing, and the messages from Storm’s End of Stannis’ forces laying siege to the castle. Everything was already in an uproar and Tywin Lannister’s men were not yet in play.

 

Renly paced before the table in cold rage, his handful of advisors remaining silent. Ned watched the awkward shared looks with barely concealed annoyance. They had just learned Stannis had laid siege to Storm’s End, a completely unexpected move according to Mace Tyrell. Ned refrained from pointing out that he would have done the same thing and had warned Renly that Stannis would move against _him_ before King’s Landing. Stannis didn’t have enough men to take King’s Landing and needed the ones that Renly had.

 

“If I may, Your Grace,” Lord Tarly spoke, but he received a glare and quick shake of the head from Renly. He had already incensed Renly by questioning him putting so many men under Robb’s command when he clearly needed them here.

 

“I know what you wish to say, Lord Tarly. I will _not_ call back my men from Lord Stark. They are _actively_ waging war on the Lannisters while we await a meeting with Stannis. I don’t want to have a hundred thousand men standing around, throwing dice. I have sent my terms. Stannis will meet me at midday or I will take the fight to him. He has fewer than six thousand men, meaning I still have double his numbers with only the Stormlords and their men.” Renly sat and was quiet for a moment before looking at Ned. “I want Eddard Stark to come with me to this meeting. Mayhap he can talk sense into Stannis and end this without any bloodshed. Lord Tyrell, you and Lord Tarly will prepare the men for battle at dawn if our negations fail.”

 

“Yes, Your Grace,” Mace Tyrell said, rising. Turning to Ned, he asked, “Will the Northmen in the camp ride out with us at dawn?”

 

Ned quickly calculated how many men he had and how many people needed protection. “I intended for some of them to stay and guard my wife and daughter, as well as the boys from the Night’s Watch, if His Grace allows it.” Turning to Renly, he suggested, “I trust these men with my family’s lives. Perhaps you should leave the queen and Gendry in their care as well.”

 

“No, Lord Stark, I wish to go with the king,” Gendry spoke up quickly from his spot near Loras and the rest of the Rainbow Guards in the tent. “I am his squire, and besides, I would like to see Lord Stannis with my own eyes.”

 

“Perhaps this isn’t the best time for a family reunion, Gendry,” Ned pointed out, still feeling the need to protect the boy.

 

“I agree that the Northmen should guard the queen if we are called to battle in the morn. If I should fall, they will take her to Highgarden or to her brother Ser Garlan, whichever is safest at the time.  Gendry will come with me today, but you’re right about him remaining in camp during the battle. Until I have an heir with Margaery, Edric and Gendry will be my heirs to Storm’s End, and since Edric is under siege in Storm’s End, I must ensure that _one_ of them is safe,” Renly announced to a tent full of very skeptical faces. Ned quickly looked at Gendry and saw he was as stunned as everyone else. “It is only right that someone with Robert’s blood will carry on as the lord of Storm’s End.”

 

“Lord Stannis is Robert’s blood, _your_ blood as well, Your Grace, and has always felt Storm’s End should be his. If you fall, he will take it,” Ned reminded him, causing the tension amongst the men to increase ten-fold as the other lords looked at him uncomfortably. Renly remained sitting, staring at his hands on the table. No one else seemed willing to say anything that the king didn’t want to hear, other than Ned and Lord Tarly, and even Randyll Tarly didn’t broach the subject of Stannis being his brother. Ned hadn’t kept his silence when he disagreed with Robert. He wouldn’t for Renly either. “If you do not resolve this with Stannis, know that he will fight alongside his men. Are you prepared to declare war on your own _brother_ , to whatever end? There is still time to avoid a confrontation if you could pledge loyalty to Stannis. The two of you could defeat the Lannisters easily and perhaps he would make you his heir unless he has a son. Whatever your decision, I will remain loyal to you and your cause, but if I can help end this with less bloodshed, I would prefer it.”

 

Awkward silence filled the tent for a few moments before Renly stood and looked Ned in the eyes, all steely determination. Ned felt as if he were looking into the past at other Baratheon eyes. “I will do what I must to protect _my_ people, even if I have to kill my own brother. He is unfit to rule. He would destroy the Seven Kingdoms and sacrifice my people to his fire god. I won’t allow it.”

 

Ned held his gaze for a moment before nodding his head. He prayed that when Robb and Jon found out the truth about Jon’s parentage, they would never face one another in battle on opposing sides. Too many families were torn apart over the lure of power. He didn’t think that anything could put his sons down that path, for they loved each other dearly, but when Jon found out the extent of Ned’s betrayal, it could destroy the honorable man that Ned had raised. How could Jon continue to believe in honor after finding out Ned’s honor was a merely façade at times?

 

“We leave in an hour, Lord Stark,” Renly said, walking past him, with Loras, Brienne and Gendry following behind.

 

Ned didn’t wait for anyone to start a conversation and left closely behind Renly. He needed to find Smalljon Umber, Ser Rodrik, and Galbert Glover to give them his orders.

 

 “Lord Stark!” Ned stopped and turned to find Gendry jogging up to him. When he reached his side, Gendry said, “My lord, I hope you know I did not mean any disrespect to you earlier. I just…”

 

“It’s all right, Gendry.” Ned resumed walking and Gendry fell in step beside him. “I imagine you’re a bit overwhelmed right now. Be careful not to be swayed by the fine clothing and feasts. We’re in the middle of a war and, despite our more impressive camp, the effects will reach us soon and we will be in danger.”

 

Gendry nodded silently. After a few moments, he blurted out, “My lord, Renly intends to make me his heir after Edric Storm. I don’t know how… I mean, I wouldn’t have any idea what to do… I’m a blacksmith. I know how to hit things with a hammer! I’m not even that good with a sword yet, and he intends to leave me a castle with lands and men, if the worst happens, which I hope it doesn’t, but I am just…” He stopped suddenly and faced Ned, who stopped as well. The boy looked absolutely terrified.

 

Ned reached out and grasped his shoulders in a fatherly gesture. “Gendry, if anything were to happen to the king, Edric would inherit first. If you become Lord of Storm’s End, Renly’s advisors will aid you in that task. My son Bran, who is younger than Arya, is acting Lord of Winterfell right now. If the worst happens, you would do well.”

 

“No, I won’t.” Gendry shook his head. “I’m a low born bastard. I’ve never slept on a real mattress, much less in a castle. I’ve never had a maester teach me numbers or history. I can’t even read. I know how to repair armor. But I can’t command men or run a castle. You must convince the king to choose someone else, _anyone_ else!”

 

Ned sighed and nodded his head. “I will talk to Renly as soon as we settle this matter with Lord Stannis and see if he can send for a maester. Until then, perhaps my lady wife or Arya would begin to help you with some of the basic lessons. We will do all that we can to assist you.”

 

“I don’t want Renly to think I’m a stupid fool.”

 

Bastards always felt inferior, Ned supposed, especially one never acknowledged or raised by his father. Unguarded, Gendry blurted out when he was uncomfortable, contrary to Jon who tried to hide all his discomfort and doubts behind a wall of stony silence or smothered anger. _You’ve done that to him. You made him a bastard and forced him to live in a world where he always felt inferior. By rights he was heir to the Iron Throne and you made him lesser than a knight._ He shook his head. This wasn’t about Jon. “Gendry, you said yourself, you never had someone teach you these things. You’re not stupid, simply uneducated. There is a difference. If you’re willing to learn, I’ll see that you’re taught. Even if you never become the Lord of Storm’s End, it would not hurt to learn these things,” Ned replied.

 

“I want to learn, milord. Anything you can do to assist me, I’d be grateful,” Gendry said, looking a bit more relieved. “Even if it’s just so I don’t embarrass the king by my ignorance.”

 

Ned saw Smalljon Umber and Ser Rodrik walking his way and said, “Go prepare while I give orders to my men.” Gendry thanked him and rushed off toward the horses.

 

Ned finished with his troops and turned to find Arya and Catelyn coming toward him, with Nymeria skulking behind them. Arya ran to him, but his wife didn’t hasten her steps.

 

“We heard you were leaving soon,” Arya exclaimed, an accusatory look in her eyes.

 

“I am and I was coming to tell you and your mother when I finished with my men,” he explained, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “You need to remain with your mother in the tent until I return. Ser Rodrik and Jacks will be guarding you, but keep Nymeria with you as well.”

 

Arya asked softly, “Will you be in danger? Perhaps you should take Nymeria with you.”

 

Ned crouched down so that he was eye level with her, ignoring the pain it caused his leg. “I’m not going to lie to you, Arya. There is a war going on and we’re all in danger. I’m meeting with Lord Stannis to possibly work out a peace treaty between him and the king. It’s unlikely I’ll be in more danger today than we were before. But because your brothers are waging war on Lord Tywin and invading his lands, if the Lannisters had an opportunity to take someone Robb cares about hostage, they will do it, so I worry more for you and your mother than myself. Nymeria will remain with you.” He kissed her on her forehead and stood, turning to his wife.

 

He took her elbow and stepped a few feet away from Arya. “If anything should happen to me, the men will take you to safety, then send word to Robb and Jon or your brother in Riverrun,” he explained in a low voice. “Do not wait for me if they advise you to go.” He hesitated for a moment and Catelyn reached out to grasp his arm. For a moment their eyes met and he could see that despite her terrible anger at him, her fear for his well-being and her love were still stronger.

 

“We will be fine. Please be safe, my lord,” she said quietly.

 

Ned nodded and kissed her quickly, then strode off to his horse. If he looked back, he was not certain he could leave them.

 

~*~

 

The slaves had greeted Daenerys not as a conqueror but as a savior, calling her ‘Mhysa,’ or ‘mother’ in Ghiscari as Missandei explained. They surrounded her, overwhelming her wary guards, reaching out just to touch her hair or her clothes as they chanted ‘Mhysa.’ They were her children, and part of her mourned that she would leave them soon. Would Westeros, weary from this War of Kings, welcome her? Would they love her as her people did? She doubted a Targaryen would ever be loved again, if what she knew of her father was true.

 

When she returned where Missandei and Ser Barristan stood, she found Aegon and another man waiting for her. They both bowed graciously to Daenerys and she had to smile. Aegon seemed good natured enough, even if he was somewhat cocky. As a Targaryen, perhaps that was to be expected. She commanded him to rise and he kissed her hand.

 

“You’ve done well, Aunt. I heard you lost hardly any men,” he said, then glanced at her in concern. “May I call you aunt or…?”

 

Dany glanced out over her people for a few moments then looked to him, saying, “I have many names you may choose from: Your Grace, Khaleesi, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Shackles…but until we know one another better and my doubts are gone, perhaps you should wait on referring to me as _Aunt_.”

 

Aegon waited a beat before nodding. She sensed his disappointment, but surely he understood it was hard for her to trust anyone, much less someone who has just returned from the dead. “We have brought Septa Lemore with us today, but she awaits you with Griff near your tent. She thought it best you two spoke in a less public place,” Aegon explained. A young man followed him who he had introduced as Ser Rolly Duckfield but referred to him as Duck. The strange nickname suited him.

 

Grey Worm, Ser Jorah, and Daario Naharis approached alongside her kos: Jhogo, Aggon, and Rakharo. She told Aegon to meet her in her tent and stepped away from him. He had not earned her trust as of yet so she would not involve him in troop movement of any kind.

 

“Your Grace, the slave soldiers eventually threw down their weapons as you said they would,” Ser Jorah proclaimed with a deep breath, clearly exhausted from the battle.

 

Dany nodded and smiled as the slaves stared in open mouthed shock at the three dragons flying overhead. They were growing so fast that if she did not leave for Westeros soon, there would be no easy way to bring them with her. While they could fly a great distance, they would need to rest at times during such a long journey, and the ships needed to be large enough for them to do so. Drogon grew so fast, he would be large enough to ride soon.

 

“Ser Jorah, I must speak with you alone,” she said, glancing at him. “Grey Worm, have your men lead the slaves and the rest of our people inside the walls. Then I need a full accounting of the ships they have in their harbors. There will be men within the city, record keepers, who can aid us in knowing what treasures are in the city. Some of the gold and food we will take, but I do not intend to leave people hungry. Daario, gather all the masters that were not slain. I will make terms with them.”

 

Daario glanced at her skeptically. “They are unlikely to want to negotiate…”

 

“Then they will die. It is their choice.” Daenerys began walking toward her tent with Ser Barristan on one side and Ser Jorah on the other. “You should know that there is a man who is claiming to be my nephew, Aegon Targaryen, waiting for us. He arrived last night with Jon Connington and today he has brought a woman he claims is Ashara Dayne.”

 

Ser Jorah glanced at her in shock and said, “That is impossible, Your Grace. They are all three dead.”

 

“The man I met last night was Lord Jon Connington,” Ser Barristan confirmed. “I saw him every day for many years, Ser Jorah. It is him and he has no reason to lie about Aegon. If the woman is Lady Ashara, then I will know it.”

 

Ser Jorah shook his head and said, “They would lie to put their puppet on the throne…or perhaps you are lying for them.”

 

Abruptly stopping, Ser Barristan ignored his last comment and said, “You do not know either of them like I do…like I _did_. You did not know their love for Prince Rhaegar or Princess Elia. If it is truly Lady Ashara, which I suspect it is based on my faith in Lord Connington’s word, this boy is Aegon Targaryen or they raised him believing it so.”

 

“He looks like Viserys,” Daenerys said to Ser Jorah. “It would be easy to pass off one infant as another but he is…” Her throat felt as dry as the sand beneath her feet. “I believe he is a Targaryen. Who could he be, if not Aegon? What other male Targaryen is there?” She turned and resumed her path to the tent.

 

“A bastard? Is it possible that Prince Rhaegar or your father had a bastard?”

 

Dany didn’t answer, for she suspected Rhaegar had another son but it was not this boy. Strangely, she thought of him as a boy yet he was older than she was, perhaps because Aegon was last seen as a babe. If he was Aegon, while she would be glad for him to be alive, she did not know what this meant for her claim. Dany told him she would not back down and she meant it, but she didn’t want it to come down to a war between them. Were they no better than the Baratheons who fought each other now?

 

As they entered the tent and saw the Septa that stood by Griff, Ser Barristan’s quick intake of breath caused Dany to close her eyes, for she knew it confirmed that this was Lady Ashara Dayne and, therefore, there was little chance that Griff lied about Aegon.

 

“Ser Barristan?” the woman whispered, her pretty face a mixture of happiness and apprehension.

 

“Lady Ashara,” he replied, with a step forward. “I cannot…there are no…I am…” His voice trailed off and the silence in the tent grew uncomfortable.

 

Griff bowed to Dany, drawing the attention away from Septa Lemore, or Ashara as Daenerys now knew. Ashara looked at her suddenly with embarrassment and dropped into a curtsey with such grace it was evident that she had years of practice at court. “Forgive me, Your Grace.”

 

“Please rise,” Dany said quietly. Everyone glanced around at each other uncomfortably, but Lady Ashara studied her for a moment before tears filled her eyes.

 

“I have been told that you are much like Prince Rhaegar, but when I look at you, I see your lady mother. You are as breathtaking and regal as she was, yet there was never a woman with kinder eyes than her.”

 

At that moment, Daenerys felt less like a conquering Dragon Queen and more like a young girl again, eager to know everything about her mother. Everyone spoke of her beauty, and Viserys disclosed many things he remembered, but Dany had come to realize that her brother’s memories were quite tainted.

 

“Everyone, please leave us,” she said suddenly. “I wish to speak to Lady Dayne alone.”

 

Jorah cupped her elbow and said low in her ear, “Is that wise, Khaleesi? I don’t wish her to fill your head with nonsense and convince you that this boy is your nephew...”

 

“He _is_ my nephew, Ser Jorah. Whether you wish to believe it or not, I know he is my nephew. But this woman knew my family and can tell me the events that happened that led up to the war and afterwards.” Shooting him a glare of annoyance and pulling her arm from him, she added, “And I will remind you of your place, Ser Jorah. You are my advisor. See that I do not have to remind you again.” Hurt flickered in his eyes but he nodded, lowering his eyes and turning to leave.

 

After the men had all left, she had Missandei bring them refreshments. Dany sat down at a small table and gestured to the seat across from her. “Please sit down. I’m certain you’re quite tired from your journey.”

 

Ashara sat down with the noticeable grace of a high born lady, obviously not a septa. Dany’s mind was racing with all the questions she wished to ask but she forced herself to resist the ones about her mother until she knew Ashara better. “I’ve heard Griff’s…or rather Lord Connington’s version of what happened after the Sack of King’s Landing, and I know what those in Westeros think happened. As you can imagine, it’s difficult for me to reconcile all that I’ve been told with the stories my brother told me.”

 

“Lord Connington was already in exile when Lord Varys brought the prince to me, so I brought Prince Aegon across the Narrow Sea with a few men still loyal to your family,” Ashara explained, a look of sadness on her face. “I had just learned of his mother’s death shortly before Varys brought him to me and I was quite devastated. When I lost the man I loved and father of my child, Elia had sent me back to Starfall for my safety. So when I held Elia’s little boy, for the first time in so long, I felt something other than grief.” Tears filled her violet eyes. “Soon after, Lord Eddard Stark arrived, bringing me news of my beloved brother’s death. Then my daughter was born but she never drew breath…”

 

Ashara could not speak for a few moments. Daenerys couldn’t resist reaching out to take her hand. The woman’s eyes drifted to hers as she tried to recompose herself. “I don’t know why I mentioned her. I have not spoken of the loss to anyone else… Forgive me, Your Grace. Certainly you don’t want to hear of _my_ losses.”

 

“No, Lady Dayne, quite the contrary. You and I share that burden. My son…” Dany’s voice trailed off and she shook her head, looking down. “I lost my son as well.” After a moment, she returned her gaze to the other woman and said, “Please continue. I did not realize you knew Lord Stark as well. I’ve heard conflicting stories about him.”

 

“I can imagine.” Ashara nodded. “Please understand. So many things became confusing and loyalties _were_ conflicted by the war. Lord Eddard Stark was an honorable man who would never have committed treason against the king…”

 

“But he _did_. Everyone talks of his honor yet he committed treason against my father, the rightful king. Even if the stories are true about my father, my brother, the crown prince, _should_ have inherited the throne, not Robert Baratheon. Lord Stark helped him steal the throne and murder my family.” Dany couldn’t help the bitterness in her voice.

 

Ashara studied her hands and remained silent for a moment causing Dany to regret her tone. She wanted to know the truth and people were unlikely to tell her if she bit their head off every time what they said displeased her.

 

“Your Grace, please know the Eddard Stark would never have rebelled against your father if he had any choice. The king had called for his head after killing his father and brother,” Ashara said quietly and Dany saw the raw pain in her eyes. “His sister was lost to him as well. I do not know how much you know about Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar, but Brandon thought the prince had kidnapped Lyanna and held her against her wishes. Naturally, he came after his sister, only to be murdered after watching his father die for his folly.”

 

“And did he? Did Rhaegar kidnap her?”

 

Ashara sighed heavily. “I do not know how it happened. Perhaps we’ll never know. But I do not think he _forced_ Lyanna, for Elia knew of their relationship. Rhaegar wanted another child to fulfill a prophecy. It didn’t please Elia, but she was not naïve in the matter. They had a political arranged marriage where they had grown to care about one another. But your brother fell in love with Lyanna Stark. And in the end at least, she loved him as he much as he loved her. Lord Stark told me his sister admitted that when he brought me my brother’s sword.”

 

“And what were Lord Stark’s feelings toward my family at that point?”

 

“He… _we_ were both devastated by the loss of our family and friends. In addition, Lord Stark felt guilty about what happened in the Sack of King’s Landing. He thought that the Lannisters should have been punished, not rewarded. I don’t think he understood the level of malice felt by Robert Baratheon toward your family or his ambition. Lord Stark was trying to rescue his sister and avenge his family. In the end, Ned lost almost everything and Robert stepped over bodies of Elia and her children to sit on the throne. I think that more than anything is why he helped me escape with Aegon.”

 

“He betrayed Robert Baratheon to help Aegon?” Dany exclaimed and Ashara hesitantly nodded.

 

“I didn’t think of it as a betrayal. I always thought of it as the only honorable option. I suppose it was treason. I have never told anyone other than Aegon about Lord Stark’s part in our escape, not even Lord Connington,” she whispered. “Lord Stark was more than just my friend. My daughter would have been his niece had she lived.”

 

Daenerys felt the blood run out of her face as the realization of what Ashara was telling her hit her. “You were at court when Brandon Stark died, were you not?”

 

Ashara looked visibly stricken. “Yes, I was in the throne room when your father…when it happened. That is why Elia sent me away, fearing the king would discover whose child I carried. I would likely have died with her, if she hadn’t. Lord Stark stayed with me for the birth of my daughter, Elia Dawn, knowing that she was the last link to his brother. I think the loss of his niece was as much of a reason as the guilt of what happened to Elia and Rhaenys that convinced him to help me escape with Aegon.”

 

Dany wondered what the man who killed Arthur Dayne had done to earn so much respect from his own sister, but then she still loved Drogo after he killed Viserys. Perhaps she needed to accept that Lord Stark was not the Usurper’s dog after all.

 

“Tell me about the child,” she said suddenly.

 

“My daughter? Or Aegon?”

 

“I know that Lyanna Stark had a child with my brother,” Daenerys insisted. “Where is he?”

 

Ashara paled even more and Dany saw her hand shaking. “But…how could you know that? I never told anyone. As far as I know, _no one_ knows of the boy but Lord Stark, a septon, and a Northmen, Lord Reed.”

 

“It was a vision. I was not certain what it meant until now,” Dany admitted with a deep breath. “There are three of us then, even if he is a bastard.”

 

“But he’s not a bastard,” Ashara answered nervously. “Prince Rhaegar took Lyanna Stark as his second wife, as your ancestors have often done. The septon, who was with Lyanna when she gave birth to the boy then later died, was the one that married them. That is why the Kingsguard were at the Tower of Joy. They would only protect legitimate members of the royal family and they knew Prince Rhaegar, his son, and his father were dead, so they were there protecting his second son.”

 

Daenerys had not suspected this. Her brother Viserys had never been the rightful heir nor was she even if Aegon had been dead. And now, she was third in line for the throne. “Where is he?” she repeated.

 

“I assume he is with Lord Stark. Ned intended to raise him as his bastard son. He felt that was the only way to guarantee his safety and his sister wanted him raised at Winterfell, far from Robert Baratheon’s wrath. He looked like the Starks, not even a hint of Targaryen traits, so Ned felt he could never be suspected of being Rhaegar’s son.”

 

“Ned Stark took the throne away from his own nephew,” Dany said, feeling anger that her nephew had been denied his place in _her_ family and forced to live as a Stark bastard. Lord Stark should have put _him_ on the throne, not the Usurper.

 

She didn’t not understand her protective nature over this boy…no, he was a man now, older than her …despite the fact that they had never met. In a matter of two days, she had transformed from an orphan with no family to an aunt of two more heirs to the Targaryen dynasty. But that left her no longer the _only_ rightful heir to the Iron Throne.

 

Ashara shook her head, looking pained. “Lord Stark saved his life. The boy, his name is Jon, he was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen – the man who had taken his sister from her family and started a war that caused Ned to lose his family and friends. But he held him no grudge, only love. No matter what is said about your brother, I know that Lord Stark would prevent others speaking ill of Jon’s father as much as possible. I do not think he would not want Jon to grow up hating his father, even if he did not know who he was.” She paused a moment before saying, “Forgive me for saying this but Lord Stark is a _good_ man, Your Grace. He would not wish harm on you or Aegon for he knows that now that both Targaryen and Stark blood flows in Jon’s veins, forever uniting your houses. It would have been hard for him, as much as it is for you, but I know that he saw Lyanna with that child and could not help but love him.”

 

Daenerys remained silent thinking of Jon and Lord Stark. Everyone was telling her to trust Ned Stark, to put her faith in an alliance with his son, Robb Stark. Knowing what her father did to Brandon and Rickard Stark, she would not blame him for hating her, just as she could not truly forgive his actions. But if Robb Stark was willing to help her claim the throne, she would _attempt_ to trust him.

 

Glancing at Ashara, Dany wondered how Aegon would accept that she did not intend to yield to him. She would win the Iron Throne just as Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters, Visenya and Rhaenys, had. Unlike her ancestors, she hoped to win the love and trust of the people of Westeros, not rule by fear. But she would do what was necessary to reclaim the Targaryen rule of Westeros. She would be the dragon, like Rhaegar before her.

 

Missandei announced Aegon stood outside the door. She motioned for him to come in and waited until he took a seat by Ashara. He smiled at her and took the older woman’s hand, placing a light kiss on it before returning his gaze to Daenerys. She could easily see the fondness and love between the two. Ashara had been his surrogate mother when he had none. The thought filled her with pain, edged with bitterness. Daenerys had never had that luxury and, while others cared for and helped rescue Aegon, she had been forced to live as an orphan, dealing with Viserys’ increasing madness. Why had Lord Stark not protected her? Why had Lord Connington not sought her and Viserys out sooner? Because before she had dragons, she was nothing to them. _Only now do they want your alliance._

Aegon’s smile faded as he said, “Your Grace, surely you realize now that we spoke the truth. I am Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen, and your nephew. I wish us to be allies … no, I wish us to be more than that. We are family. Lady Ashara has assured me that Dorne will stand with us. You have mentioned you have allies in Westeros already…”

 

“I know you wish for me to become your bride so we can conquer the Seven Kingdoms together. But I will not marry you, Aegon. And you should know there is another: your brother. We must find him. Only then will the prophecy be realized. Your father, my brother, died for that prophecy. Only by fulfilling it will we be successful.” Daenerys rose, her head held high, looking regal and powerful.  “But hear me now, nephew. I will let you rule by my side, but I will not surrender the throne to you. I did not endure all that I have to give it away.”

 

~*~

 

“The Iron Throne is mine by rights. All those who deny it are my foes,” Stannis declared loudly, his blue eyes hard.

 

“The whole of the realm denies it, brother. Old men deny it with their death rattle, and unborn children deny it in their mothers' wombs. They deny it in Dorne and they deny it on the Wall. No one wants you for their king. Sorry,” Renly answered, looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

 

“My lords, you are brothers and you share a common enemy. Can you not resolve your differences and fight the Lannisters together?” Ned said, glancing back and forth between the two. “Between the two of you, you have alliances with everyone but the Lannisters. Joffrey would not hold King’s Landing if…”

 

“When men in my ranks wondered aloud if you were a traitor, I defended you, Lord Stark, even though you were no friend to me,” Stannis interrupted. “But I see I was wrong. If Lord Tyrell had not been so power hungry, perhaps you would have offered your daughter up to my brother instead. One pretender or another makes no difference to you.”

 

“How dare you,” Ser Loras spat, his horse urging forward.

 

Ned noticed that Renly’s cool exterior had vanished and his guards were all tensing. Quickly he moved his horse in front of Ser Loras and called out, “Lord Stannis, I was never your enemy, nor am I now. Robert would not want his death to lead to you two attempting to kill each other. While you are laying siege to Storm’s End, Lord Tywin is likely planning his return to King’s Landing and then our chances of defeating Joffrey are diminished greatly.”

 

“Save your words of brotherly love, Stark. Robert would not care if Renly or I kill each other. He cared little enough for us in life.”

 

“That’s what all of this is about though isn’t it, Stannis?” Renly said with a smirk. “All of this righteous indignation is because he loved me enough to name me Lord of Storm’s End and he named Lord Stark his Hand of the King. Perhaps you think you will have the respect you feel you’re entitled to if you become king.”

 

“He is the Lord of Light’s chosen and your rightful king,” the red priestess declared.

 

Renly chuckled. “Only your Lord of Light seems to have chosen him. I judge he barely has five thousand men _if_ I were being generous. I have the full might of the Reach, the strongest of the Stormlords, as well as the Riverlords and the Northmen. There is no way you can win this, Stannis. I will offer you this, since it wounded you so severely. If you swear fealty to me, I will give you Storm’s End as long as you name one of Robert’s two remaining sons as your heirs since you have no son of your own. I will be legitimizing them when I take the Iron Throne.” He held out his hand to gesture to Gendry. “This is your nephew, Stannis. He wanted to meet you again, although I warned him you’d not be as generous or accepting as I.”

 

Stannis barely glanced at Gendry before snapping, “Robert had so many bastards, any fool could claim he was one and I will not…”

 

“I never made _any_ claim,” Gendry replied, anger flashing in his eyes.

 

Ned’s patience now gone, he replied, “You know Gendry is Robert’s bastard because you met him in King’s Landing. Explain to me why, when Lord Arryn was murdered, you didn’t tell Robert the truth. All of us might have been spared this madness if you had. Perhaps Robert would even still be alive.”

 

Stannis glared at him and replied shortly, “And my beloved brother would have believed me if I had told him? You know he wouldn’t. He had more use for Lannister gold than he had for my loyalty. Now hold your tongue, Lord…oh I forgot you’re not a lord anymore. Perhaps your son would have had more sense than to throw in with my fool brother if he wasn’t so eager to win glory with _your_ men fighting for him.”

 

Ned did not answer, simmering angrily but realizing trading more barbs with Stannis would do no good. He turned to Renly and said, “Forgive me, Renly. I had thought to help you with this meeting but I fear my presence has made no difference.”

 

Stannis gave him a glare and Ned could never see more difference between the three Baratheon brothers than in his stiff back and cold eyes. “If you want to help, talk some sense into him.” Stannis then turned to Renly. “For the mother that bore us, I will give you until first light tomorrow to surrender to me, Renly.” Turning his horse, he motioned his men to withdraw.

 

The red priestess watched Renly until Stannis was galloping away before saying, “Look to your sins, Lord Renly.” She studied Gendry for a brief moment and said, “Come with us if you wish to learn the true power of king’s blood. The Lord of Light will show you.”

 

Gendry shook his head, saying, “I’m not interested in power or your Lord of Light. And Lord Stannis made it pretty clear he would not be interested in another bastard around.” She nodded with a smile before riding away.

 

Renly turned and rode away angrily. Ned took a deep breath of the cool sea air blowing in even at their higher elevation. He prayed that his daughter was on the sea traveling toward them now. Ned had never felt so torn in different directions as he did now with his children scattered across the Seven Kingdoms. He wished they were all home in the north, preparing for the winter.

 

~*~

 

“What will you do when you reunite me with my parents? Will you go back to Bear Island?” Sansa asked, before moving her Spearmen on the Cyvasse board. The captain’s son, Miro, had been teaching Sansa and Dacey to play during their journey to pass away time.

 

Dacey reached for her Dragon and Miro clucked his tongue at her. She cut her eyes to him in frustration then returned to studying the board. After a few moments, she picked up the Heavy Horse instead. She had little patience for the game and had already grown tired of being trapped on a ship doing nothing.

 

“No. I will go back to fight for your brother. After my time in King’s Landing, I’m itching to kill some Lannisters,” Dacey replied.

 

Sansa sat forward and studied the board for some time before she smiled triumphantly. She reached for her dragon, positioning it so there was no move for Dacey, causing her to groan aloud.

 

“You’re too good as this game already, Lady Sansa. Perhaps Lord Stark will want you to help him plan his battles.”

 

“Only because you’re inpatient. You’re too quick to bring out your strongest pieces and end up sacrificing them to my minor ones.” Sansa sat back in her chair, studying Dacey. “You’re fond of my brother, aren’t you? _Very_ fond.” The corners of her mouth twitched as she held back a smile.

 

“He is my lord. It is my duty to respect him,” Dacey answered vaguely, gazing out to watch the sun melting into the sea. After a long silence, she glanced over at Sansa to find her grinning mischievously. “What is it?”

 

Sansa giggled. “You think I haven’t seen that look before when girls watch my brother. Your feelings are not just as a warrior for her commander. It’s clear to me that…”

 

Dacey shook her quickly. “Lady Sansa, you forget: I am not a girl. I’m a woman and I know the way of the world. It wouldn’t be proper for me to have the feelings that you’re implying that I have. Your brother is a high lord, the Warden of the North and my commander.”

 

“And you’re the heir to Bear Island. I highly doubt Robb cares about proper or not. He must trust you, if he sent you on this mission,” Sansa argued. “My brother isn’t like the men in King’s Landing. He’s more likely fall in love with a brave and strong woman like you than a lady like me.”

 

“Love?” Dacey laughed. “Your brother isn’t in love with me. Life isn’t a song, Lady Sansa. Trust me.”

 

A dark shadow passed over the younger girl’s face and her smile faded, as she glanced down at her hands. “I’ve been told that so often. I know people think I’m a naïve fool, but nonetheless I’m aware life is not a song. I know that more than you realize.”

 

Guilt washed over Dacey and she attempted to remedy her comments. Sansa was so young and seemed so innocent, Dacey often forgot how much horror she had suffered in the capital. In fact, thanks to their unwelcome guest, she continued to put up with unkind comments she should not have to endure. She had tried more than once to encourage Sansa to leave the Hound’s care to her or Darren, but Sansa feared he’d rile one of them to the point where he ended up dead at their hands. He knew exactly the right words to say in his acerbic tone to upset the gentle Stark girl.

 

“Forgive me Lady Sansa. I did not mean to insinuate anything. You’re a gentle soul who sees the world more generously than I do, I suppose. But I know you’re not a fool, innocent or otherwise. Your soul and manner are gentle but you’re not _weak_ , despite what that cur below says. You’re northern born, with the blood of the First Men, just like myself. And you’re the daughter of Lady Catelyn Tully as well: a woman of immeasurable grace and iron will. You will always be strong, even if those delicate flowers of the capital are blind to it under your gracious courtesy.”

 

Sansa smiled demurely, but Dacey saw the flicker of pride in her eyes when she called her strong. Over the time they had been on the ship together, Dacey had grown very fond of Sansa. So unlike her sisters, Sansa seemed to need to be reassured that she was strong in spite of being a lady. Dacey and her sisters couldn’t care less about courtesy or grace. They knew they’d never fit in at court, nor did they want to. On Bear Island, survival was more important than dresses or manners. But Sansa wanted to be strong like the rest of her family and not some frivolous pretty face.

 

“All I am saying is that if you feel affection for my brother, you would be foolish to not at least let him know. You’re not only brave and fierce; you’re also beautiful and kind, even if you attempt to hide it. I would be proud to call you sister one day.”

 

Dacey quickly changed the subject, but Sansa’s words stuck with her for the remainder of the evening. Lord Stark…Robb had gone out of his way many times on the journey from Winterfell to the Twins to seek her out, even if they just rode side by side talking of random things. Sometimes he would help her dismount and his hand would linger on her waist or he’d watch her closely for a few moments too long before blushing and turning away. He was handsome and kind as well as brave. But he was also very young and inexperienced, both as a new lord and as a man.

 

Unlike her sisters, Dacey wasn’t very experienced with men in a romantic way. She grew up thinking any man that wanted her only wanted to rule over her, and no man would do that but the lords of Winterfell. But Robb was different. He asked her advice, he admired her strength and abilities, and he laughed even when she was unladylike or improper. The way his eyes twinkled with mischief when he saw her dueling with one of her fellow soldiers or challenging them in drinking games made her feel like he truly saw who she was and enjoyed her differences.

 

But did he think of her with love or merely lust? Did he just want to satiate his curiosity and take her as his lover, perhaps his first? It was common knowledge that the Mormont women weren’t like other women in the respect of remaining innocent until they married. Her sister Alysane even had two children and was unwed. Robb wouldn’t be the first if he merely wanted her as a lover. But Dacey wasn’t like her sister. She would never lie with a man for mere lust. She wanted a companion more than husband or a lover: a man who admired her for her skills with an ax or her strength, not her beauty. Even though she thought she was too tall and lanky to be considered beautiful, men frequently told her of her beauty. Her only lover, Lance, had been many years ago and he had told her that she had a rare and powerful beauty, but she thought he was just a fool who enjoyed the pleasures of her body enough to flatter her with false words. He had been the youngest of four children and the only son so headstrong women didn’t intimidate him. He died shortly after their affair began during an attack from the Ironborn. His mother had hoped he’d rule beside Dacey someday.

 

As fond as she had been of him, though, Dacey had seduced Lance out of mere curiosity, and once that was satisfied, she enjoyed his company physically but kept him at arms’ length out of self-preservation.

 

Robb was the first man to make her feel this way, whatever this feeling was. Her pulse increased when his blue-eyed gaze landed on her, and his smile made her warm. Even his scent or the warmth of his hand made her feel excited and slightly sick. She did not want to fall in love with a boy who needed to marry a lady, not a bear. Unfortunately, her heart did not seem to care whether she wanted love or not. Even now she was painfully aware that the thought of being reunited with Robb caused her to feel a flush of heat course through her body. But was she willing to become his lover if that was all he sought?

 

 

 


End file.
